An Irish Wind
by smac92
Summary: After the death of her privateer captain, Fiona has nothing left but the indescribable pull of the ocean and the promise of gold owed to her by a pirate. What she didn't expect was to find herself doing Jack Sparrow another favour. In their quest to find The Crown of Immortality, she unwittingly finds herself in the company of the man with whom her fate is forever entwined...
1. Chapter One - Irish Weather

After the death of her privateer captain, Fiona has nothing left but the indescribable pull of the ocean and the promise of gold owed to her by a pirate. What she didn't expect was to find herself doing Jack Sparrow another favour. In their quest to find _The Crown of Immortality_ , she unwittingly finds herself in the company of the man with whom her fate is forever entwined; Commodore James Norrington.

Against his better judgement, James Norrington comes to trust the young Irish woman he is forced to share a ship with even though she hides many secrets. What he doesn't quite comprehend is why he feels so bound to her, after a simple act of kindness. Delving into the mysteries of the ocean together, he finds that Fiona is a lot more than she seems.

When the stars are aligned just perfectly, an Irish wind will blow...

* * *

 _ **Hello again! This is my second story on this site, but for those of you interested in more Musketeers stuff, I will be posting some more soon! For that reason I won't promise how often I'll update this story but I will do so as and when I can. If you read my last story, you'll know there was an Irish character in there and as I'm Northern Irish I couldn't help being inspired by Verity in Jamestown who is a fierce Irish lady for those of you who haven't seen it. This story which was just the barest notion of an idea took firm shape once I decided my main OC would be Irish. I will quote some poems here and there and was going to stick to only Irish poetry; but a few that are not Irish sneaked in that I had in my head from the beginning that I can't bear to part with.**_

 _ **I thought Norrington deserved some romance and he will eventually get it, but it will be a bit of a slow burn! I'm quite worried about Jack Sparrow characterisation but I'm going to try my best to get him as close to right as I can! I'm dabbling in a little mythology also, and I'm not quite sure how that will all turn out but from my plan it seems to fit! I will add a few Irish sayings or abbreviations here and there and I will try to include their meanings but if some are a little confusing please ask! This is also my first attempt at writing in the first person which I normally struggle with but my OC is Irish, and we like nothing better than telling a good story!**_

 _ **If you didn't just skip all of that ^^^, Thanks!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter One - Irish Weather**_

The rain pelted down in torrential sheets over the city of London and its cobbled streets. On the fifth day of the cumbersome conditions that would commonly come to be known as Irish weather, the rain and sleet fell so heavily that one might have mistaken main thoroughfares of the city such as The Strand or Cheap-side for the River Thames.

The solitary figure who braved a brisk walk in such conditions did so not out of curiosity or foolishness, but duty. He was commanded both by the missive that had arrived at his lodgings earlier that same day requesting his presence at rather an odd address in town, and of something else entirely. Now we look upon it and call it some rather unearthly persuasion that had him venturing out to attend such a meeting that he had in all good graces not thought to attend but an hour before. He called it fate once and I'd been disinclined to believe that even then. No, I believed that fate certainly had a lot to do with the occurrences we both met even when apart back then, at the beginning of things. Our fates though were entwined a little further back I thought. Seven months further back to be exact, when we; that is my Captain and I had saved this man's life and that of some of his ship-mates. I shan't discuss that with you now though, for that part of the story fits better a little later, when you have a slightly better understanding of just who the man is, and of who I am.

The figure had wrapped a large dark overcoat around himself as he trudged rather disconsolately from his modest lodgings in Mayfair and headed not towards the old Royal Naval College at Greenwich but west into the more upmarket residential area of Knightsbridge; the playground of the social climbers and nobility that swarmed around the King's court. The man was glad of the walk west, as the Naval College to the east was rather a longer walk. He had considered that to be the birth place of such a letter at first, but had been relieved to recognise the address detailed at the end of it. He did not recognise the name of its writer though. The hand was elegant to be sure, and the name Sir Malcolm Sidney certainly sounded like the kind of gentleman that his father might have called upon in days past. He let out a short snarl as a crack of thunder sounded ominously above him and he hoped sincerely that his meeting was not going to be a long one. If it were longer than a half hour and the weather worsened, he might find himself stranded within the home of this Sir Malcolm Sidney until there was improvement in the climate.

He stopped as he was crossing Queen's Gate, suddenly feeling the overwhelming impulse to turn upon his heel and go back the way he had come. He did not know this Sidney. He did not know anyone in London any more, not really. Even those who could claim acquaintance with him were not the kind of people he had any desire to be around now. He could crawl back to the lodgings he had picked for their modesty and privacy and disappear into another bottle of port for the twelfth night in a row and try to forget the last ten years of his life. He could try to forget _her_.

This is where we both think fate had occasion to step in. He didn't want to go, the resolutely unhappy man with little to live for but his career in the Navy. Sir Malcolm Sidney was not a Naval man, this he knew well. It was likely nothing at all to do  
with his career. He had become rather well known of late as the scourge of the Caribbean and had been rather shocked to find that word had even reached London of his escapades upon the sea. It was likely the lure of gold that had Sidney dragging him from his shelter on such a day. He had encountered a few such occurrences in the little time he had spent back in London. Men with flailing fortunes wanted to marry their daughters and nieces off to a man like himself, who they thought would one day make Admiral of the Fleet. Such a title was both desirous and most likely beyond his reach now. He had toyed with giving up his commission entirely after what had happened off the coast of Tripoli. He had single-handily killed almost all of his crew due to his own rash orders. Only the actions of my captain saved his soul and that of seven of his men. Even now after everything he still sometimes has the ability to sink into that melancholy oblivion of grief and self-blame that those few short hours caused him. It will be with him for the rest of his life, no matter what I do to try and aid him. That anger, grief and shame might have driven him mad as it has done to so many men over time or perhaps even killed him. He was a young man still, with many attributes and qualities to serve him well. The trouble was, he did not recognise those things in himself any more. Now, part of me thinks that was more to do with losing _her_ than his crew and ship. I do not think I shall ever tell him that though.

Remarkably he still had within him some strange determination and perhaps it was only to do well despite the woman who had spurned him that kept him walking though the rain. I see that determination as something much more. My Captain you see, was such a good man. You couldn't be around him for even as little as a few hours and not be affected by his presence. When he saved the Navy man that day, he showed him real and true determination; had him rethinking his descent into darkness. If for nothing else than respect for my Captain, he battled on through his demons and I believe he began to overcome them even as he spoke with the butler and was admitted into the grand vestibule of the house on Ennismore Gardens.

He told me that the butler was rather startled by the appearance of such a wraith at the door of the residence and even giving his name did not placate the man. He did let him in though. The butler turned towards a sweeping staircase and ascended it to inform his master that his guest had arrived. He shrugged out of his overcoat and took off the worn leather tricorn hat that had protected only a little of his powdered white wig from the rain as the butler descended the staircase in a flurry, his eyes widening a little and his manners improving as he looked upon the Starched white collared shirt and stockade that lay beneath a navy-blue coat, the gold trim of the sleeves confirming his rank of Commodore. James Norrington nodded to the butler as the man took his hat and coat and followed his instructions to wait for him to return. His belongings were placed carefully in a cloakroom and the butler led him upstairs and announced him in Sir Malcolm Sidney's study.

He was right of course. Sir Malcolm Sidney was not a Navy man. In truth, he was not altogether different in appearance from what James had been expecting. A man in his late fifties, with grey hair and a ruddy complexion that alluded to far too much alcohol over the course of his life. There were rings upon quite a few of his stubby fingers and the chain of a fob watch hung between a coat button and a pocket. The man stood as James approached and opened his arms wide in what he probably thought was a welcoming stance.

"Commodore Norrington, it's a pleasure to finally meet the man that my peers speak of as the scourge of the Spanish Main! You know, you are thought very highly of sir! You are expected to do very well indeed!"

I imagine James was trying his very best to think of his best escape route and trying resolutely not to roll his eyes in annoyance. He undoubtedly thought this meeting had been arranged so that Sidney could thrust a daughter or niece under the Commodore's nose. Politeness forced him to at least make some small talk with the man before leaving in haste, even though praise was not something he was able to listen to with any semblance of normality.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Sidney although I do wonder at you wishing to meet a man such as myself. You are not a Naval man yourself from what I have gathered?"

Indeed, he had not gone into his meeting entirely blind. He had asked around in the taverns he had frequented since his return to London in an attempt to find out what he could about Sidney. Evidently, he did not look hard enough and I've told him so on quite a few occasions. He did know though, that Sidney had nothing whatsoever to do with the Navy.

Sidney gave him a rather shrewd glance as he gestured for James to sit, and retook his own seat behind his desk. Within a moment, the butler had procured two glasses of port and presented them to the gentlemen.

"Thank you, John, that will be all," Sidney announced without even glancing at his butler who swiftly retreated from the room. James told me of course, that he had noticed such a small and insignificant thing and of how it would help to shape his perception of Sidney. Sidney had called his butler John. The majority of wealthy people like Sidney were able to employ a vast household staff and could not be expected to recall the names of each and every one of said household. Therefore, they called the male members of staff John, and the female members Jane. There was a small courtesy afforded to butlers and housekeepers though, as they held a more respectable position in society. Therefore, it was customary to call them by their given names. Sidney had failed to do so. It was a mark of indifference and arrogance that Sidney had not taken the trouble to learn the butler's name. He may have been a downtrodden shell of the man he once was due to his trials upon the sea and in regards to his heart but James noticed this slight. It was the swift movement of the butler as he left the room that confirmed to James that the man's name had never been John.

Thus, his perception of Sidney was beginning to form. James knew he was not a man to rely upon and I am glad he had such a thought in his head. He listened to the man though, noting that although Sidney spoke the Queen's English and had likely been educated in London, there was the slightest trace of something else there within his accent that was either Scottish or Irish. They discussed the weather for a few moments, and of James's return to London.

"You do not strike me as the type though, to remain in your own country for long," Sidney asked rather pointedly after a while.

James nodded as he tried to think of a polite way to answer what was evidently a very personal question in the guise of another. "You are correct Sir in presuming my stay in London is not a long one. My business is all but concluded. I plan to sail for the Caribbean again poste haste. There is no reason for a prolonged stay when all of my friends are themselves aboard other ships upon the sea. I do believe there is no one in London who would wish to claim acquaintance with me."

He knew better than to think he had dodged Sidney's question when the older man smiled knowingly. "No sweetheart then? But perhaps there is one in the Caribbean, no?"

I suppose it must have felt as if some kind of cord within him pulled upon his heart then. The dull ache was suddenly shooting pains within his chest as he tried to calm his breathing and his heart rate. He had deliberately not thought of _her_ for days, but a few words from Sidney had brought him right back to when he had last seen her, standing alongside William Turner as she declared her love for him before her own father. She was as lost to him now as she had ever been. A stranger in London would likely have been more attainable than Elizabeth Swan ever would have been. He knew that, but still he could not forget his feelings. He could not mould his admiration for her into something else even when she belonged to another man. If she had not already married Turner, he supposed it would happen soon. They would likely be husband and wife by the time he had returned to Port Royal; if he returned.

"No Sir there is not," he replied curtly. "I feel my mind serves a better purpose when level headed and not distracted by dalliances. I had in recent months set about overseeing the training of some officers and lieutenants who I believe have the potential to go far within the Navy. that has been my sole purpose when not undertaking the pursuit of pirates."

"A noble venture...yes, both noble ventures Commodore," mumbled Sidney as he glanced down at some of the paperwork upon his desk. "What of your own ambitions within the Navy? I know your father held the rank of Admiral for a time. I had thought you would have considered following in his footsteps?"

James tried his hardest not to frown. He told me so, but if I'm honest I think he must have always been frowning in those days. He had such a sullen temper that I'm sure that even the happiest of occasions would have rendered him stoic at best. He thought Sidney was fishing for information in regards to how good a marriage prospect James might make and so he thought to move the conversation on to the pinnacle point. He stole a glance out of the sash window directly behind Sidney and grimaced as he realised that the rain had grown even heavier if that were possible. He needed to retreat back to his own lodgings soon before he became stranded. "Forgive my impudence Sir but I'm sure you will understand that I have not much time left in London in which to conduct my affairs. Whilst I'm honoured by your request to visit you and pleased to make your acquaintance, I fear that for you this will have all been in vain. Whilst you have yet to state your reasons for bringing me here to your home, please be aware you are not the only gentleman to have propositioned me in such a way during my stay in London. Just last night I was offered the hand in marriage of the Eldest Miss Gainsborough. Whilst I'm sure she is charming, I have no intentions of marrying at present or ever so I'm afraid-"

He stopped mid-sentence and stared across the desk at Sidney, who was now chuckling heartily as if James had said something rather funny indeed. "Young man do not tie yourself in knots just yet," roared Sidney before he took a healthy mouthful of whiskey. "I'm not going to force you to marry some chit. Heavens, I've no unmarried female relations to even put before you in such a manner. No my boy, I want to talk about gold."

I imagine James raised one of those well structured brows of his quizzically. I'm sure he was also a little relieved. "You see," continued Sidney, "I'm aware that some say you're the best there is when it comes to chasing down pirates and we know how pirates like their gold. What I'm about to ask you is a topic of a delicate matter. I would appreciate it if you were not to speak of it with anyone else once our meeting has concluded. You must understand that there will be others like myself vying for this particular gold artefact and I do not want them to get wind of my own search for it."

"Sir I can give no assurances," James stated blandly. "I cannot until I know of what it is that you speak. I would also have you tell me how this gold artefact relates to me."

Sidney simpered a little then, as if delighted they had finally reached the crux of their meeting. It was in those few seconds I believe, that James decided that he really did not like the man at all. "Have you not heard of something which in some languages is called _The Crown of Immortality_?" Sidney asked softly.

"I have not," James confirmed, "but forgive me Sir? Is this mythical object a definite object; a crown of gold? Or are we speaking rather of a figurative meaning?"

Sidney leaned forward in his chair a little as he appraised James. "Well I do like your methodical mind. You did not rebuff me from the first and tell me that no such thing could exist. Instead your logical mind jumped exactly what it was I was seeking. I can see I really did pick the right sort of fellow for the job."

"J...Job Sir?" James stammered.

"Yes boy, I want you to find it for me!" Sidney exclaimed in mirth as if he were a school master telling school children of an enjoyable excursion they may take if their behaviour warranted such a treat.

It was the second time that James had been called boy in just a few moments and each time he'd felt a pang of annoyance. Sidney might have been twice his age but James could not find a conceivable reason a man of his own age would be referred to as a child. After everything that he had seen and done over the last few years alone, everything he had experienced; he believed that he was due a little more respect for that. He knew Sidney had employed such tactics to try and disarm him. James thought Sidney a fool. Sat before him was a Naval man who had lost almost everything months before, and now had little left to lose except his own life. He still daily contemplated resigning his commission and retreating to some sorry home far from civilisation where he would not last the next winter. He was tired and cold, with weary dark circles underneath his eyes and a fair few more wrinkles than he dared count. He was turning thirty-three on his next birthday which was but a few weeks away and truly believed he had little to show for so many years upon the earth.

I think James a fool for thinking so ill of himself. He was Commodore of Port Royal and upheld a sterling reputation. To someone like myself, that is certainly not nothing. It was _her_. She had made him feel so downtrodden and be-little'd about his own self that he was beginning to reject the only path he had ever seen himself taking in life. His father before him had been a great Admiral, or so he was told and James had never questioned how his feet automatically led him down the same path his father had taken some years before. all of that meant very little to him now. he might have been raised to the rank of Commodore at a younger age than his father did, but he no longer had ambitions of being raised any further. His father had married a lot later in life, but that did not fill James with any confidence at all. No, that's a lie. He fleetingly had thoughts of Will Turner reaching a sorry end sooner rather than later and Elizabeth running straight to him. He'd have been her second choice, her only option after marrying a blacksmith who was really a pirate too. She could not have hoped to marry well again should she ever need to. The shame would have been too much for most men. It should have been too much for James Norrington, but I think that even he knew he'd still have her. Even if she only married him to save herself from scorn and ridicule; even if she still held Turner in her heart above anyone else he would still marry her. He loved her still.

When James did not immediately reply in some way, Sidney stood from his chair and began to pace the room before the fireplace. "Find me the crown Commodore. Find it for me and I shall make you an Admiral. Make no mistake, I've got a fair few influential ears that regularly listen to my whisperings. I control half of parliament when I choose to and that is no exaggeration."

"Forgive me sir," James queried in his best attempt at polite curiosity. "Am I to understand that you are commissioning me to find for you this mythical crown, when I have not heard of it before myself and highly doubt it's existence?"

Sidney chuckled and nodded. rubbing his hands together, he continued to pace in silence for a few minutes and James grew more incensed as the silence bore on. Here paced a man twice his age who had likely not seen half as much or experienced as much of the world as James had himself, who was entreating him to find some lost mythical object that in all likelihood was just an old wives' tale. How on earth was he to start such a search? I think it also occurred to James that Sidney might have been implying that James could not make Admiral without the finding of such an artefact, and I don't doubt that he felt insulted by such a notion. There is still a young Lieutenant within him somewhere, eager to please and desperate to be noticed by his peers; adamant that he be recognised for promotion because of his own actions and decisions rather than because he was his father's son.

"Sir if I ask an impertinent question then please reprimand me, but why does a man such as yourself want this crown. Surely even if it exists you don't believe it is capable of granting immortality?"

Sidney fixed James with a shrewd look as he returned to his chair behind his desk. It was as if he was trying to read in James's expression what question he would ask before had asked it.

"I do believe you ask the oddest questions Commodore. not 'Where should I look for such a crown?' or 'Where did you hear of such a thing?' but why do you want it? You really do have a logical mind with a twist don't you! You wish to ascertain whether I have good or bad intentions before we delve more deeply. you have the mark of a good man about you, to question that particular point above all else."

James held back a snort. "I would not say good Sir, but careful." My heart broke for him when he told me he'd said that. He did not even consider himself a decent man any more because surely if he was good and decent, Elizabeth Swan would have loved him instead of the blacksmith. Ironically he held the answer within himself. He could not help his love for her, no matter how hard he tried to shake it off. He did not want to love her any more than he wanted to become Admiral but he couldn't change it. How like a man to blame the woman for her feelings when he knew very well he could not help his own. He did not understand yet that we cannot help who we love. He would come to, in time.

"Careful is better than good," replied Sidney. "I need a man I can trust not to act rashly. I need-"

"Sir I apologise for the interruption but did you not hear of what befell my ship _The Dauntless_ off the coast of Tripoli? She sank sir! With myself at the helm and all but eight of us survived. I recklessly pursued a damned pirate with fervent abandon and sailed all of those men to their deaths. I find that within me I cannot even blame the pirate Jack Sparrow for such an occurrence. I should not have let my anger and determination blind me!"

"My boy," James grimaced. "Jack Sparrow is why you are here! He will search for such a crown himself once he hears of it and he will hear of it, mark my words. Whether he will do so because he wants it for himself, or because he wants to get to it before the East India Trading Company will remain to be seen."

"The East India Company Sir?" James felt his curiosity finally begin to spike.

"Yes Commodore." Sidney sat back in his chair, relief washing over his face and James realised the relief was because he had finally shown an interest. "An old combatant of mine is also aware of the existence of the crown and seeks it for himself.  
I believe Lord Cutler Beckett's ship left port some time ago. If he is not already in the Caribbean, he soon will be. I want you to find it before he does boy!"

James opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word there was a sharp knock upon the study door. The butler appeared as the door swung open. "If you please Sir, there is a Mr Hawkins come to call. Are you in or out?"

"Oh John I am most definitely in! Send him right up!" Sidney called with an air of excitedness. James remained quiet as Sidney stood again and they both listened to the distinct sound of two sets of footfalls upon the carpeted stairwell, before the door swung open again. It appeared Mr Hawkins did not care enough for propriety to await the butler announcing him for he strolled into the room as if the house were his own. James turned back to observe Sidney and saw that the older man did not appear to mind the over-familiarity.

"Sidney old man!" crowed Hawkins as he leapt forward to clasp hands with Sidney. "This damned weather has turned London upside down! Upon the sea there are no such irrationalities where rain is concerned. Most of us are wet anyway!"

Sidney let out a bark of laughter and returned to his seat again. James turned back to Hawkins to observe the clothing of someone who was certainly not a Naval man. He was scruffy, with fair hair tied back with a piece of black leather and tired black boots upon his feet. The coat he wore was certainly never cut for him and was made for a man a little taller. it was also of a finer cloth than a man like Hawkins could have afforded. The single lone earring dangling from Hawkins's right ear lobe offended James greatly. This man might perhaps have passed for a merchant if it were not for the earring and the rather arrogant attitude. No, James was almost sure this man reminded him of every pirate he'd ever met.

"You are not too late Hawkins my boy. You see the Commodore I spoke of is still here." James turned back to Sidney sharply, wondering what on earth he had walked into. "Hawkins here," Continued Sidney as if he had sensed James's confusion, is a privateer." That made more sense to James. "He procures trinkets and the like for the crown."

"I like to think I bring you more than trinkets Sidney!" Hawkins cried in mock offence.

Sidney laughed good naturedly as James realised just why Sidney was so influential. Mr Hawkins the privateer was clearly in Sidney's employ. Any gold or treasure retrieved would go through Sidney's own hands. "I know that at some point Commodore, that wonderfully intelligent mind of yours will eventually wonder how on earth you are expected to locate such an artefact yourself and the answer lies in Mr Hawkins. If you agree to my proposition, Mr Hawkins will accompany you on your journey to find the crown. He is rather gifted in terms of navigation and only last year he retrieved a fortune's worth of gold from the wrecks of two Spanish Armada Galleons that sank of the coast of Ireland. both of you are the best of the best, and I have the utmost faith in you both."

"This Lord Beckett," James wondered aloud suddenly, "Would it really be so bad if this crown fell into his hands?"

"He wants to control the seas does Beckett," cried Hawkins. "He wants to rule it with an iron fist."

James raised a brow. "Would that be such a bad thing. I know the likes of men that sail the seas and challenge authority. An iron fist is what is needed where most of them are concerned."

"And there I thought you were an intelligent man Commodore," Sidney said softly. "You are a logical man at least. Logic though sometimes prohibits what must be seen. There are things you cannot possibly comprehend yet about what lies out there upon the sea, things you will not believe until you have seen them with your own eyes. Even then you will still question them. Perhaps you already have seen them and your logical mind convinced you you'd seen something else entirely. You do not want to believe yet, but in time you will. That is why I should like Mr Hawkins to accompany you. He has experience of such things and can guide you in the right way."

I expect James wore an expression of sheer confusion and disbelief. I've seen that look upon his face a few times but it appears less and less as the years have passed. He has grown more accustomed to the unusual, as my tale will tell. "Sir Sidney, what things am I to see that I may not believe? I have sailed the seas for more than half of my life now, and have come across people and situations that you could not possibly imagine. What more is there to see?"

Sidney steepled his hands in front of his face and observed James for a few moments before he spoke again. When he did, his voice had lost some of the lustre that it had before. "Commodore you would not believe me if I told you. There are tales that go back centuries, perhaps even thousands of years that for a long time were discounted as legend and myth-"

"Like this crown?"

"Yes boy like the crown. Beckett must be stopped because if he gains control of all of that, we are all doomed."

James looked from Sidney to Hawkins as both men awaited his answer. "This is about more than rivalry then? I do not know if I am the right man for such an undertaking. The East India Company built Port Royal. I am who I am today because of them. This Lord Beckett will surely not appreciate my meddling-"

"Let me worry about Beckett and you can concentrate on getting yourself and Hawkins back to the Caribbean."

James shook his head. "You forget yourself Sir. I have not given you an answer yet."

Sidney didn't speak and James was left to his own thoughts. I only have his account of the conversation and from that I cannot believe he ever agreed to such a scheme. I know how he felt back then. He was in a dark place. I've been in such a place myself, as you will come to hear. I do not know what it was that made up his mind. I don't think it was the lure of the myths and legends. He's a practical man is James. he takes things at face value, and I for one am glad he does. That kind of man is always required no matter the situation. Despite his desire to leave the Navy, I do think the promise of promotion called to him a little. It as a stirring of an old life before Elizabeth Swan obscured his vision so profoundly that he could not see where he even placed his feet as he walked. Perhaps that awoke something in him then; a determination to return to the man he had once been. I think there was also a quest for glory. If he could retrieve that crown and place it into Sidney's hands then perhaps he could make his father proud, make himself proud.

Even with all of this, I still do not understand why he eventually agreed to take Hawkins with him and to go in search of _The Crown of Immortality_. Maybe fate reared it's ugly head again and made the decision for him. Of course, he had his own conditions. Sidney promised him a ship and crew but James was adamant that the seven men still alive who had sailed with him aboard _the Dauntless_ would also sail with him this time. He also made it clear that he would remain solely in command, and that Hawkins was only to accompany him in an advisory capacity. Hawkins wasn't that concerned as long as he received the fee he had been promised. I think James was aware even then that perhaps Hawkins thought there would be more to gain from such a voyage as well as Sidney's fee.

Regardless of James's connection to Jack Sparrow or Lord Beckett, or even the fact that he and I met a few months before this meeting took place when my captain saved his life; I am not fool enough to deny that this meeting brought me to where I am today, telling you this story. Fate is a curious thing you see. Maybe James and I would have come together again anyway, but his meeting with Sir Malcolm Sidney who happens to be my uncle would change James's fate forever, and that of mine.

 _ **Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!**_


	2. Chapter Two - The Parting Glass

**_So here's the second chapter and towards the end you'll meet my OC; but you'll have to wait until chapter three to learn a little more about her! Elizabeth and Will are part of this chapter, but I'm not sure just how much involvement they will eventually take in this story. I kind of wanted to stray away from them a little and begin a new tale but due to Norrington's feelings, there will always have to be a little mention of Elizabeth here and there if nothing else! If I can find a way to slip them into my story without causing too much confusion I will though._**

 ** _I should probably have mentioned at the beginning of the last chapter that this story begins shortly after 'The curse of The Black Pearl' and I will draw titbits from the other films but for now I think it shall not follow 'Dead Man's Chest' or 'At World's End' just yet. Depending on how far I get that might change, but you shall be the first to know if this changes!_**

 ** _*_ _The quote from the song 'The Parting Glass' is an old traditional Irish and Scottish song that I felt fitted my OC's feelings towards the end of this chapter and in the coming few._**

 ** _I only own Fiona!_**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Two - The Parting Glass_**

 _"The Parting Glass"_  
Of all the comrades that e'er I had  
They are sorry for my going away  
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had  
They would wish me one more day to stay  
But since it falls unto my lot  
That I should rise and you should not  
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call  
Good night and joy be with you all.

* * *

Perhaps it was just as well that Elizabeth Swan consented to marry William Turner in a quiet and simple manner in the small parish church in Port Royal. There was no pomp or circumstance, I am told. There were only Elizabeth's father and some of the household staff from the governor's residence in attendance as witnesses and they felt so obliged to the family that employed them to speak very little of the marriage. I consider it odd that no one noticed the new intimacies of the two young people within the port town. It was common knowledge of course that they harboured feelings for one another, but their wedding had been conducted so quietly that no one had heard tell of it.

Where I come from in Ireland, everyone knows everything there is to know about everyone. You cannot go half a mile without some person or other who is little more than a stranger asking you about yourself. Folk are curious and others are only too happy to tell the secrets of others. For this reason alone I find it hard to believe that the Turners kept their wedding so very quiet. Surely someone had to have noticed. Indeed they managed a full two months of wedded bliss before it was remarked that Will Turner the blacksmith was spending an inordinate amount of time within the governors residence upon the hill. Indeed people began to notice him leaving his forge of a sunny evening and making the short walk up the hill to pay a visit and not making a return journey until the next morning. Many women within the town thought highly of Miss Swan the governor's daughter and would not hear of her reputation being slandered. they agreed with one another on that point as they browsed market stalls together or used the same trough as a neighbour to launder their linens. Thus it became general consensus that the two young people must have married.

It is no wonder then, that Lord Cutler Beckett heard of their quiet marriage shortly after his arrival in the port town. Perhaps Will Turner had some sort of premonition, for as soon as Beckett had set up office, Will inadvertently knew he needed to leave. He may have received fair treatment from James Norrington if he had been around but Cutler Beckett would surely not wish for Will to be walking free after his recent brush with the piracy laws. He pleaded with Elizabeth to set sail with him in search for Jack Sparrow and their life's fortune whatever it may come to be; but Elizabeth would not leave her father.

So it was that one morning Will Turner was roused before sunrise by the butler in the governor's household. The man hurried Will into some clothes and downstairs to where Elizabeth and her father were waiting. "I'm sorry Will," Elizabeth whispered to him gently.

Will knew by her tearful expression that his time with her was at an end. "We knew this was coming Elizabeth. That was why I wanted us to leave this place long before now."

Elizabeth nodded but it was her father who replied. "Both of you must now face the consequences of your actions, although how either of you is to blame I do not know." The governor turned to Will then. "Perhaps what you did Turner was rash, although I appreciate it was all for love of my daughter. Rash it still was. Now you must be rash again. Away from here and stay gone until we can safely welcome you home again."

"You will not marry her off to some rich suitor while I'm gone will you?" said Will in an attempt at humour even though he did not feel like laughing at all. He buttoned his coat and took the purse of money that Elizabeth pressed into his hand.

"You've met my daughter Mr Turner," the Governor replied with a hollow laugh. "Do you really think I'd try to make her see reason? I know how little she listens to her old father. In any case, I begin to see now how one's actions make can shape the good will of a man far more than money or title can. She has made her choice, but I implore you to return to us in one piece, for I do not believe my daughter could come to terms with any ill that may befall you."

Elizabeth moved forwards again, crying openly. "Go to Jack, Will. Go to Jack and find whatever it is that Beckett wants. Jack will know. Find it before Beckett does. It's the only way that you may come home to us again."

She made Will Turner promise not to return to Port Royal before he found whatever it was that Beckett sought. I do not know how she got him to make such a promise, not when in those very moments Lord Cutler Beckett was himself making his way towards the governor's residence to arrest Will Turner. I do not believe Elizabeth thought for one second that she would escape lightly even with Will making his escape from the back of the house. All too soon she would find herself under house arrest. When I first heard such a tale, I did not know how Will had been able to bear staying away. In my mind surely love would force your hand in such a circumstance as to have you clambering back up that hill as fast as your feet would find you to aid your loved one in any way you could. I suppose you would tell me reader that I did not understand love. You're so very right. I did not see the wider picture back then. I did not take into account all that was at stake.  
Little did I know that I would find myself in a slightly similar position one day, where I'd have to consider so many other things besides my own feelings, and choose to leave love behind.

* * *

"That's her there," announced Daniel Hawkins to the cabin at large as he pulled from his pocket a rather grubby miniature portrait of a well-dressed young woman and handed it to the man on his right who in turn passed it around the table. He took another swig of his tankard and observed the officers as they gazed upon the woman in the portrait.

"And she just vanished entirely?" queried Lieutenant Groves as he brushed a bit of dirt from the portrait in his hand and a young girl gazed back at him with a rather vacant expression. "She appears to be little more than a child here."

Hawkins nodded eagerly, his movements marred slightly by the effect of too much rum. "That's what I thought good Sirs; too young to have gone alone. I did believe Sir Sidney's story when he told me he believed the girl had been taken from her bed. How could one so young make an escape all of her own accord and why would she want to. Of course as time went on and Sidney kept sending me out upon the sea in search for the girl I began to wonder what his intentions really were. Sidney's getting on a bit to be sure, and his niece can't be any more than a third of his age."

Although he did not tell me of such an occurrence, I imagine James will have shared knowing glances with Lieutenants Groves and Gillette. If Hawkins would slander his employer's reputation so easily, then he was no more to be trusted than said employer. I think all three men were likely predisposed to dislike Hawkins because he was a treasure hunter and little better than a pirate himself. He had simply chosen to hand a fraction of his finds over to the right authorities and thus had escaped punishment and ensured his own freedom to carry on pillaging.

"When you say ill intentions?" Groves pressed even though he received a warning glance from his Commodore who was also acting as Captain for their return voyage to Port Royal. James was tired of Hawkins' incessant babble I presume, as he would continue to be on many more occasions in future.

Hawkins now held the portrait again. "Well I'm not blind Sir. She paints a pretty picture does she not? Miss Niamh Lefroy? If you ask me, Sir Sidney had more than the interests and cares of an uncle towards her. To me it seems more likely he had a hand in the girl's disappearance-"

"Mr Hawkins, have you shared such thoughts with Sir Sidney?" James asked suddenly. "You appear to recommend a great deal upon the subject that your employer would find offensive!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Hawkins roared as he laughed. "Of course Sidney's private life is no matter of mine, and he may do as he wishes. I just wonder at him sending me on a wild goose chase if he really did know the girl hadn't disappeared."

"Then perhaps this kind of conversation is best left unsaid Mr Hawkins," James announced as he pushed back his chair and stood up. "Perhaps you shall endeavour to employ a precedent in future of saying nothing at all if you have no kind words to utter?"

I think Hawkins must have had no choice but to agree with such advice when under the watchful gaze of James and his quirked brow. I've seen that look upon his face a hundred times and even I in my own hot-headedness have found myself a little intimidated by such a gaze.

* * *

If Elizabeth was expecting preferential treatment from Cutler Beckett, in some ways she was right to think so. She was placed under house arrest with her father, with all visitors to the house to be monitored. Beckett told her on the first morning of her incarceration that she would remain behind closed doors until Will Turner returned. She realised something was afoot almost at once. Beckett knew a lot more than he should have done about Will and Jack Sparrow's escapades of a few months earlier and seemed to believe Will could give him Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth knew though that there was something else Beckett wanted. He had not left his prudent life in England behind simply to oversee trading in Port Royal when there was already a governor in place. She was not surprised when he called at the house almost every day to make small talk with her, asking the occasional question about Will Turner and Jack Sparrow that Elizabeth refused to answer. In part she relished in such meetings because she could tell that her non-compliance was beginning to wear a little thin upon the man.

on one such morning, Elizabeth descended from the upper floor of the house to find Beckett already within the drawing room, with tea set before him. Before she could cross the hallway though, a man she did now know with a sour expression that only enhanced his wrinkled face barrelled past her and into the drawing room. When Beckett saw the man he jumped up out of his seat. "Mercer? Have you word?"

The man called Mercer handed over a sealed letter to Beckett, a grim smile in place. "James Norrington is returned from London with a new ship Lord Beckett. He docked this morning with a new crew and retreated to his own residence some hours ago. With this new crew came word that the company have granted you permission to search all Irish trade and merchant ships within the vicinity of Port Royal Sir. It seems Sir Malcom Sidney has been at his work again. We do not have permission to openly pursue any Irish ships in free water as you had hoped. It seems Sidney is still pedalling the myth that his lost niece is out there somewhere and he does not want her harmed."

Elizabeth moved forwards on the pretext of hearing a little more clearly, her foot narrowly missing a large terracotta plant pot as she moved. She grimaced a little as the rustling of her skirts would surely carry into the drawing room. Remarkably though, it seemed the men had not heard the sound.

Beckett spoke again. "The old fool Sidney still believes he can win her back does he? I should like to see him try. After all, once our plan comes to fruition she will be lost to Davy Jones' locker. He will lose his mind over a non-descript young woman when the reality is that the real treasure was staring him in the face all along. If this niece is as clever as we think she is, she will not have spoken of Sidney to anyone at all, and never will. He has nothing to fear of her sailing the sea. Even if she did voice her concerns, who would believe her?"

"Is it time then Sir?" Mercer asked then, the anticipation in his voice indisputable.

"Yes, it's time to bring down the much loved Captain O'Malley and his rather tricky first mate! Then we will concentrate our efforts upon Jack Sparrow."

Elizabeth sank back into an alcove as quickly as she dared without making any noise as the two men left the drawing room and crossed the hallway. Beckett in his arrogance left no word with the butler at the door in apology of his early departure. Elizabeth waited in her hiding place for a few minutes in case either of the men returned to the house, but they did not. her eavesdropping had not provided her with very much information at all, but she was suddenly sure that James Norrington would find it all very interesting indeed. Despite her apprehension at seeing the poor man again after she had spurned him for Will Turner, she felt within her a strange need to see the Commodore. He was a methodically logical man and would likely make more sense of what she had just heard. He at least would have the opportunity to find Will and warn him about Beckett.

Within just a few short hours, Elizabeth glimpsed Commodore James Norrington climbing the hill towards the governors residence in a resigned sort of despondency. He would likely no more want to see her than she wanted to see him. She greeted him in the doorway as an old friend would in an attempt to re-affirm the notion of good-natured friendship. He greeted her coldly, with only a nod and she led the way into the drawing room, extremely glad that her father did not yet know that James was visiting. She had only a few moments she was sure, before the butler told his master of his guest. James approached the French doors that led out onto a pleasant garden at the rear of the house and fixed his gaze upon the water fountain as he tried to contain his tumultuous emotions. The door to the room clicked closed softly and he heard the voice he had imagined hearing in his mind for so many months since he had last seen her. "James?"

Her voice was soft, some of it's lacklustre missing as she moved further into the room. There was even a hint of pain there. His resolve weakened entirely and he turned worrying eyes upon her. Miss Swan," came his gravelly reply. his use of her previous surname a clear attempt at creating a boundary between them.  
"It's Mrs Turner now, as I'm sure you've been informed," Elizabeth supplied meekly. She knew this statement would hurt him even if he was already aware of her marriage.

"I had not been informed." He glanced away again and Elizabeth thought for a second he would turn and leave the house without another word to her. She told me how she could clearly see the pain written all over his face. Now that I've come to begrudgingly accept her, I understand that she did feel so sorry for the pain she had caused him. sharply he turned to her again, as if coming to the conclusion that the sooner he said what he needed to say, the sooner he could leave. "I offer yourself and Mr Turner my heartiest congratulations. I hope Turner endeavours to deserve you. Forgive my intrusion madam but I heard that you had been placed under house arrest by Lord Beckett. I came to enquire after your welfare...and that of your father's."

Elizabeth nodded, resigned to the fact that he was all formality with her now, whereas before they had been quite friendly. I always do wonder who it was who initiated such friendly terms. I don't think it could have been James. I know him too well. No, it must have been her. In essence I like to think that for it makes it easier then for me to blame her for the pain he felt back then. Blaming her is unfair now, as I suppose I would call her my friend now too. "We are well. My father is a little unnerved at having so many armed men about the house but on the whole he continues with his paperwork in his library as he always has done."

"And you?" He gazed at her with such concern that she sighed heavily and shook her head. "There are things I must tell you James. Something occurred only this morning that has increased my worry tenfold for Will, wherever he is."

"He is not here with you?" James asked in incredulity but Elizabeth told me that she thought he relaxed a little, sure in the knowledge that Will Turner was not there to witness such a painful and awkward experience.

"If he had been here with me, he'd have been arrested," said Elizabeth. She explained everything to James that she had heard that morning, watching his frown deepen with each moment that passed.

"So Beckett is in pursuit of Sparrow? I cannot say I blame him," James quipped, but there was no malice in his voice, only concern. "What worries me more is his intention to trouble Captain O'Malley. O'Malley is a privateer. He is no pirate to be trifled with, he is currently in the employ of the crown. I know him, he's a good man. He has aided the capture of many pirates and was the captain of the ship that came to the rescue of myself and my men not so long ago."

"Regardless of all of that James, Will has gone in search of Jack Sparrow and now they have a tail! Beckett wants Jack Sparrow, and if he finds them both together, they will both hang! Can I prevail upon you to go after Will, to warn him about Cutler Beckett before he crosses Jack Sparrow's path?"

Her request was ludicrous. I know it now, and both Elizabeth and James knew it then. Elizabeth Turner, newly married to the blacksmith she professed to love was appealing to the good will and sense of duty in the man who had loved and lost her. She was not blind to how much anguish her request would cause, but she knew not what else to do. He relented of course. He could not bear it, to see her so upset and worried. He promised to leave earlier than he had planned and to go in search of Will Turner. He swore to Elizabeth though, that if he encountered Jack Sparrow on his travels that he would bring the pirate back to Port Royal to face the execution that he had so artfully dodged months before. Her worrying frown only increased but James would not be dissuaded by it. It was going to be his life's work now if he lived long enough to rid the seas of pirates and prove to Sir Malcolm Sidney and everyone else that he was more than qualified to take up position as Admiral of the fleet of his own merit, with or without a crown that granted the wearer immortality.

It was a foolish notion for him to promise such a thing to Mrs Turner. That night he would fret over it so terribly that numerous times he would approach the doorway of his own home with thoughts of going back to her and recanting his promise. How could he go in search of the man who had ruined his happiness forever, with the intention of aiding him? Did he not sit alone in near darkness each night, with a bottle of port at hand wishing Turner into an early grave so that he could claim the only bride he had ever envisioned at his side. Now that he had given such a promise though, he knew he could not take it back. That was when he realised he did not want to go in search of Turner. I'll wager his mind strayed then to thoughts of forgetting Will Turner altogether. He could tell Elizabeth that he was going in search of him, and instead begin his search for this crown of myth and legend that he had been tasked with finding. He told me that he was very set in his ways that night, that he would not look for William Turner. Even as the sun rose the next day he gave orders for his crew to follow not the usual trade route to Tortuga, but Mr Hawkins' direction out into open waters.

What was it that pulled him towards Tortuga then in the coming days? James told his crew that it was Hawkins' uncertainty that led them towards the pirate infested island. Whilst it was true that Mr Hawkins was still struggling to decide where they should begin their search and was no doubt infuriating James beyond belief, I can't see that being the sole reason. Perhaps yet again it was something magnetic or otherworldly that had him land upon the very shore that I would wash up upon just a day later.

* * *

When I woke on the deserted beach at the easternmost point of the Island, for the first few seconds I really did believe I had died. It was only the agonising pain I felt coursing through my whole body that assured me I was still alive. my throat burned in reaction to the salt water invading my mouth and no doubt from all of the screams of torment that had passed my lips some time before. My knee, which was always painful for me in some form was that day twisted and bent at an odd angle in the wet sand, but thankfully I had felt pain like it before and knew it had perhaps taken a nasty knock but nothing more. I was lying half in water and half out and tried to pull myself a little further up the beach with my arms, but the pain in my shoulder prevented any such movement. I yelped as the wound in my shoulder protested and sank back onto the sand, a thick and foggy headache building behind my eyes ever so quickly. Gingerly I pressed my hand to what should have been a clean musket ball wound and found the flesh torn and disfigured.

I let my head fall back onto the sand and prayed for the heat of the sun to kill me, for I knew my shoulder wound was not enough to do so, at least not readily. It's one of the darker moments of my life, but not the darkest. before my eyes flashed the scenes I had witnessed the night before, if it had indeed been the night before; aboard The Grace that are scared across my memory. I'll never forget the scenes I saw that night for as long as I live and they are by far the most gruesome that I've ever seen. I watched the men who had become my family torn apart by cannon and musket so swiftly that I barely had time to comprehend what was happening before I too was sprawled on deck with my shoulder torn open.

It was Mick's face, gazing back at me blankly with no life in his eyes that drove the screams of desperation from my mouth. Of all the people in the world, I still wonder why he had to die. He was the reason I'd survived, thrived even. Back then he really was everything to me and I thought he'd live forever. That was how he made me think and feel. After everything I'd been through in my short life, meeting Mick was the beginning of a wondrous adventure that I thought would last forever; but every man must die.

I wanted to die too as I lay in the wet sand, blood pooling at my side. It was the thought of Mick that pulled me upright and set me staggering off down the beach, checking my pockets with the arm connected to my uninjured shoulder as I went. I could hear him cursing me for my dark thoughts, telling me how much life I still had in me. Remarkably, I still had a few coins in my pocket and some trinkets. I knew Tortuga well enough to find my way ever so slowly from the beach to the edge of the port-town, but I was not foolish enough to try my luck with the establishments on the sea-front. my legs felt like lead and I stumbled many times as I climbed higher into the town, singing under my breath as I went to try and focus my attentions a little.

Finally, I thought I had reached a safer part of town where I thought I might find somewhere I could go to ground for a few days. In a daze I surveyed the facades of the inns and taverns, but I could see no stark differences between any. picking one at random I approached the doorway and entered, the usual sound of chatter and the clinking of glassware reassuring me a little. There weren't many taverns that were confident enough to supply their patrons with glass to drink from instead of pewter tankards so my mind immediately decided I'd successfully chosen a reputable establishment. I stood in the doorway for a few moments, exhausted and dazed before someone shoved me on their way past. I came to my senses then and moved towards the bar. If my mind had been a little more together, I'd have probably imagined Mick screaming at me to check my surroundings but I didn't even think to glance behind me at the cluster of tables to see who else frequented the tavern.  
There was a young woman behind the bar who glanced at me as I approached. She appeared rushed off her feet, her black sleek hair swinging madly about as she ran the length of the bar. I tried to gain her attention as a man barraged her with drunken requests that made my stomach roll. If I'd been well enough I'd probably have taken offence at his lewdness. The girl seemed oblivious to his slurs though and I realised it was likely because she didn't speak much English. She was Chinese I thought.

By the time she caught my eye, I'd managed to wrestle from around my neck an old necklace that was really just a chunk of metal in some Irish design that I'd never really took the time to decipher. It was something I'd found years ago in a field back home in Ireland and it was one of the only pieces I had left of home. I was fumbling in my pocket for the few coins I had left when the Chinese girl placed a bottle of rum before me. The coin I had was just enough to pay for it. uncorking the bottle I moved aside the lapel of my shirt and poured the contents of the bottle onto my wound, letting out a hiss of pain as the alcohol met my torn flesh. my legs all but fell from under me as I tore the scarf from my neck and pressed it against the musket ball wound.

"You...need...remove..?" the Chinese girl asked me suddenly.

"No..." I shook my head weakly as I realised she was talking about the musket ball. "That's been taken care off."

A man who had been standing behind the bar, watching the young woman work stepped forward suddenly and spoke to me in an a northern English accent. "I'll have no trouble here!" He was pointing to my shoulder and I shook my head again.

"There won't be any. I just want a room." I presented the palm of my hand to him, the locket resting upon it. "How many nights stay can I get for this?"

He shrugged and appeared deep in thought. He was watching someone over my shoulder as he spoke, "Three nights."

"Th...Three?" I stammered. "I'd get a weeks stay on the sea-front for this!"

He waved at me dismissively then. "Go back t'seafront then!" He turned away from me and I sighed heavily, still pressing my scarf to my injured shoulder.

"Sir, isn't that O'Malley's lass?" Groves asked as he pointed at my back. "Weren't they saying earlier in the port that the ship ran aground and no crew were found, that they were all lost?"

I didn't want to go to back to the seafront. At least here in the more upmarket part of town I was more likely to find a lock upon the door of my lodgings and a comfier bed to ride out the fever I could feel taking over. I sighed wearily and moved along the bar a little towards the back of the room and caught the man's eye again. "Fine, three nights."

I presented the locket to him and he reached out and took it from me with a grumble. "It's two nights now for your cheek!" I shook my head wearily, not entirely sure I could withstand an argument and accepted the offer of two nights. I had some of my mother's rings in my pocket that I did not wish to part with if I could help it, but if I wanted to stay for longer I had that option.

"Didn't that fisherman say all aboard The Grace had perished though?" Gillette asked the group at large. "Indeed she looks like death herself. Perhaps she is a phantom! Don't they say that can happen sometimes; when a ship and its crew perish that the crew members are seen on land sometime later, bidding farewell or something?"

James knew the signs of a fever well. Pale and clammy skin, trembling limbs and the unmistakable bloodstained clothing. He no more thought I was a phantom than he believed in Davy Jones's Locker. Back then he did not think of such things because to him they did not exist. "Obviously not," James muttered to his friend as he stood from his chair and made his way to the bar where I stood.

* * *

 _ **Like my previous story, I think the chapters of 'An Irish Wind' will all run to around 5000 words but if this is too long please let me know! Personally I like reading quite long chapters that I can really get stuck into, but I know this isn't the same for everyone!**_


	3. Chapter Three - This Bleak World

_**I wasn't going to have my OC making contact with Norrington so early in the story originally, but I feel like this works!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Three - This Bleak World**_

 _ **'Tis the last rose of summer - Thomas Moore**_  
'Tis the last rose of summer,  
Left blooming alone;  
All her lovely companions  
Are faded and gone;  
No flower of her kindred,  
No rose-bud is nigh,  
To reflect back her blushes,  
Or give sigh for sigh...

When true hearts lie wither'd,  
And fond ones are flown,  
Oh! who would inhabit  
This bleak world alone?

* * *

A room key was gently pushed accross the bar towards me and I sighed inwardly with relief. I was glad to find out I'd be able to lock myself within my rented room if only for two nights. I stared down at the worn brass chunk of metal before me as I realised I couldn't really afford any more than two nights on this part of the island if I wanted to eat. I needed to eat to keep my strengh up. I knew of a man who owed me rather a lot of gold, and I supposed that O'Malley's share would be mine too now that I was the only crew member from _The Grace_ left alive to collect the debt. After my two days of rest I resolved suddenly to go in seach of that man. Last I heard, he had a ship again. I'd give him some gold back in return for passage somewhere.

I was not aware that someone had approached the bar on my right until a glass of a deep red liquid was pushed towards me. I glanced up as the Chinese woman turned away from me, and then to my right. Staring back at me were perhaps the most vivid emerald green eyes that I've ever seen. I recalled the last time I'd seen them, when O'Malley had pulled the man aboard _The Grace_ during a terrible hurricane that had sunk even the strongest of navy ships. There was a certain defeated lifelessness within them now, as if he was almost ready to give up. It was a feeling I understood all too well in that moment.

"O'Malley?" he asked wearily once he knew he had my attention. I couldn't bring myself to say it aloud, not yet; so I shook my head and lowered my gaze back to the surface of the bar where my room key and the glass of what must have been port or wine still sat. "What happened?"

I opened my mouth and no sound came out. I had expected that. for a few seconds I tried to figure out how to explain it all and found the words just would not come. I felt foolish for my loss of speech and expected to find an impatient grimace upon his face but as I turned to try and apologise for my hesitation, I saw it was not needed. It was not impatience I saw in his face, but remorse. I recalled then that he had lost most of his own crew. It had been his own decision to sail them into that hurricane and he was still riding the waves of guilt for such a choice. That made things a little easier. He would have an understanding of how difficult it all was to talk about.  
"O'Malley thought...he could ride out any st...storm," I stammered slowly as the emerald eyes met mine again. "It's the worst I've ever seen. Worse than..."

My voice faded away and he nodded his understanding. "Worse than the hurricane in the midst of which we met?"

I had not expected James to voice it himself, but I saw the flash of pain as it crossed his face. "You know what O'Malley was like. He thought that as we'd come upon the storm so quickly that it would disperse at much the same speed. In truth...I think the storm came upon us, not the other way around; followed or chased us down. It was as if it were deliberate." I reached for the red liquid before me and as I brought it to my lips I realised it was port. I had never been keen on such a drink and much preferred whiskey. In that moment though, any drink was a blessing. It wet my lips and eased the dryness in my throat caused by the salted seawater. placing the empty glass back upon the bar surface I glimpsed the uncontrollable shaking of my hand and pulled it to my side hastily. If he had seen, he made no comment of it. "I was asleep," I continued suddenly, filling the silence as he lifted the bottle of the red liquid that he had evidently purchased and refilled my glass. He had poured a glass for himself but had yet to touch it.

"Mick woke me and dragged me up on deck to help but I was as much aid as a paper sail by then. The ship was going to ground and there was nothing we could do. We were listing heavily to the side, and that's how I saw another ship sailing towards us through the gloom. Mick thought it was help coming to us at first, but only fools would go to another ship's aid in such a storm..."

I realised I had called my late captain a fool but I did not regret such a statement as it was wholly true. I had also called the errand of saving the life of the man on my right a fool's one though. "Did you recognise the ship?" James asked, pointedly ignoring my last statement. "Was she flying colours?" How strange it is to think that back then nothing could have convinced me that both the Naval man beside me and I would certainly undertake much more foolish notions within the months to come.

I wished I had a stool to place myself upon then, for I felt my injured knee begin to loose momentum. I slowly moved myself around a little so that I could lean against the bar inconspicuously. I was now facing his side as he stared ahead towards the differing colours of bottles behind the bar, his eyes not seeing anything at all but the horrors inside his mind.

"I didn't see," I replied tiredly. "I was trying to help Colm get back on his feet whilst still staying upon my own. That wind was like nothing I've ever felt before. It had come upon us so suddenly that we were not ready for such conditions. I knew with one glance across the deck that some men had fallen overboard but there was no helping them in those kinds of waters. I watched another two go over the side as we listed again." I shuddered involuntarily and reached for the glass again, deciding I no longer cared if he saw the shaking of my hand. "They were screaming as they went into the water but Mick was shouting at me too. There was cannon-fire from the other ship then and it was as if we all realised together that we were doomed. we'd run aground on rocks before we knew it and they still fired upon us. One by one the men fell." I didn't add that I'd been witness to such atrocities never before in my life; watching Cannonballs tear through the flesh of man after man; my family, as Mick pulled me down to lie across the deck out of the line of fire. I saw his face then before my eyes and I couldn't bear to speak of it. I tried to hold the tears back as I glanced away. I had hoped James might spare me any more torment in reliving what I'd seen.

"I washed up on the beach west of here," I mumbled quietly as I lifted the glass of port to my lips again, taking my tale abruptly to its end without explanation.  
When I had emptied the glass and lowered it I saw him steal a glance at my shoulder. "You befell some ill on the streets then? Did they rob you? Perhaps if you can give me a description of the creature, justice can prevail? Although I do not believe there will be much chance to return your stolen-"

"Justice?" I cried indignantly with such force that I thought I caught the minutest of flinches from him. "Justice for what?" I felt rage course through me then so startlingly that I pushed away from the support of the bar, ignoring the protest that my knee gave. I swayed a little where I stood, but that could equally have been the effect of two rather generous glasses of port upon an empty stomach as much as it could have been weariness. "Justice for a whole crew of men who lost their lives for nothing?" My voice broke as tears fell unchecked down my face. I realised a few people had turned to glance at us and I shook my head to try and rid myself of the anger and the torment. Of all the ages that have passed before, I think there's one certainty and that's the probable ill-temperament of an Irishwoman.

"I wasn't shot in Tortuga," I replied in the mildest tone of voice I could find, so devoid of any emotion that I felt briefly ashamed for pushing my own anger away. "A man came aboard _The Grace_ as she sank; shot at us all. Mick was shot as I tried to stand again. He grabbed me by the ankle and yanked me back down to the deck again. His reaction was so sudden that if he'd pulled a second later a musket shot would have embedded itself in my heart. It was his dying act, for in the split second it took for me to fall and turn to him, the life had left his eyes. You speak of justice Commodore? Where's the justice in myself standing before you now, when all of my friends perished! I was meant to die with them all out there and yet here I am. How is it possible that the sea took me along with them all, and of all of that crew it chose me to spit back out. I don't even know how long ago all of that was!"

I covered my eyes with one of my hands and blinked away yet more tears. I heard movement and thought for a second that he had vacated his position and would return to wherever he had been seated before. Wholly unaccustomed to such rudeness from a woman, he would likely believe himself to be above listening to such nonsense. Then I felt his arm brush mine accidentally as he moved closer to speak quietly to me. It was such a strange feeling, to know that such contact had certainly been accidental but despite that there was some sort of pull between us both; that such an occurrence had automatically taken place before either of us had realised what had happened. "It was Yesterday," he supplied evenly from right beside me. "How then do you suppose you survived to wash up upon such an island as this?"

"I don't know Commodore," I mumbled. "I don't know." I shook my head still buried in my hand and felt that if I did not retire to lie down upon a bed soon, my legs would give up entirely. I turned from him with my scarf still held tightly to my shoulder and glanced towards the back of the room where a set of stairs led to the upper floors and the rentable rooms. Would I make the stairs?

"I would advise Miss that you seek out the expertise of a surgeon for such a wound," he said gently.

I grimaced as I realised he had probably taken my outburst for rudeness and his use of such a cordial title in regards to me threw me a little but could find no words within me to convey my anger and dismay in that moment. "You haven't met the doctors in Tortuga have you? I'd be safer wielding my own scalpel. Thank you for the drink."

I moved away from him with as much grace as I could muster even though I knew my knee was seconds from giving way entirely. At the time I was not aware that those emerald eyes followed me as I clumsily climbed the stairs and located my rented lodgings as dictated on the little piece of wood attached to the brass key in my hand.

The room was a surprisingly pleasant one, and I immediately limped across to the small window. despite the dusk I could still make out the glistening waters of the port far below, half hidden behind the walls of another building. Despite what I'd been forced to see, the sea air was still calling to me. I don't know how it was possible, but I knew that the sea was my home. Mick's death should have driven me to madness and perhaps it did for a time but I still longed to be aboard a ship. I recalled how I had felt all of those years ago, upon a beach back in Ireland. So lost and lacking of spirit I was that more than once the thought had crossed my mind to simply abandon my life and walk out into the freezing cold water, to let it take my life. It was almost as I began to have those thoughts that the sea began to call to me in a rather more different way. It was making me some sort of promise; that I know now.

I'd have to do it alone now though. With my newfound family upon the sea all gone I had no one to share such a life with. It would not be so difficult to find occupation aboard another ship but I was not fool enough to think I'd find the same kind of friendships again. Even if I did, would I be able to accept it? I think somewhere within me was still a sense of loyalty to the crew of Irishmen I'd sailed with for all of those years. Maybe part of me had subconsciously made a promise to them all that I'd never again be as happy as I had been when in their company, that I'd never replace them. Now I understand of course that you don't really replace people that have gone before. You simply meet new people who bring something new to your life. At the time, standing in those rented lodgings I think it was firmly set within my mind that I'd never be cheerful again. Without my friends; without Mick I'd be entirely lost in the world. You see, I think I'd rather placed a lot of expectation upon Mick's shoulders. I had grown to believe I'd always have him, and that I could simply follow him wherever he went. That was to be my life, or so I had thought.

I'd bypassed a small looking glass on my way to the window and turned hesitantly back to it to observe my reflection there. How long had it been since I had seen a true reflection of myself; months? Perhaps even years? I knew from the occasional glance at the underside of my scratched spoon in the galley of _The Grace_ that my murky olive green eyes had not changed at all, and my hair whilst still a vivid garnet red had lightened considerably in the sunlight. When above deck the sunlight brought out so many shades of red in my hair that I was unsure what colour to use in a description. What had changed was just about everything else. Of course, now I have some understanding of how time and circumstance may change a person's appearance but then I was surprised at the young woman that stared back at me. My skin was firmer and harder as I tugged at the taught and lightly tanned and freckled face. My skin was naturally and typically Irish and white as snow and my first few months aboard _The Grace_ were akin to agony as my skin blistered and burned under the hot sun. As time wore on though I became accustomed to the heat and the sun. My skin finally began to show signs of colour, but I knew I would never be as tanned as Mick. His dark hair and complexion favoured such a climate and he might have passed for a Spaniard in the many ports we visited. I was thinner than I had been before I left Ireland, if that were possible but I was much healthier and stronger. My limbs were strong and toned excepting the leg that bore my injured knee. in all aspects, I was a different person.

It was no longer Niamh Lefroy as I had been before I left Ireland who stared back at me from the looking glass, but Fiona O'Connell; the woman I had become the day I walked aboard Mick's ship and begged for passage. I'd been a child back then and I'd left Niamh behind and had lived as Fiona for quite some time. Niamh felt like a distant memory of someone I'd known once. It no longer felt to me as if there was any part of me that I needed to hide or shy away from. To me it was as if I had always been Fiona.

Now I understand that I was an amalgamation of both women, doomed to remember the horrors of my past in Ireland and spend my life hiding them away, but free to be the woman I wanted to be upon the sea. The bed was mercifully soft as I gently lay down, carefully trying not to jostle my shoulder. At once I realised my predicament. I had not slept in a solid bed upon land in six years and was not only used to but comforted by the gentle rocking of the ship as it lulled me to sleep. In Tortuga, there would be no such comfort. I lay awake and listened to the sounds of the riotous town below me that seemed to never sleep at all.

Upon entering the tavern earlier, if I had actually surveyed my surroundings and glimpsed the Naval men gathered around small tables towards the back of the room, I doubt I would have stayed for long. Whilst I was in no way wanted for any crime at all and nor were Mick or any of his crew, I would still have felt uneasy. Such men would have asked questions I did not want to answer. Whilst Mick was a good man and by no means a criminal, he wasn't adverse to the odd dodgy deal that would benefit him immensely. He was ever so careful who he dealt with though and usually only conducted such transactions with trusted friends. There was occasion though when I felt Mick was treading a very fine line. He was well respected by many and I began to notice that Mick liked to play both sides. Both pirates and Navy men alike, including Commodore James Norrington had fallen prey to his good humour and charm.

I listened as the sounds of the tavern below filled out into the street and although I could still hear the sounds of the raucous town beyond, there was a still sort of silence permeating from below. It crossed my mind then that perhaps I should have purchased some more alcohol and some form of cloth to use as a bandage for my shoulder, but now that I had lain down I had not the energy to get back up. Every time I tried to move I hissed in pain as my shoulder gave a painful twinge. I was strangely glad of the pain as I'd have been more worried if I couldn't feel it. I did think I deserved to be in pain after what had occurred though. I'd somehow managed to survive the waters surrounding that hurricane to wash up on a beach in Tortuga but I did not think we'd even been remotely close enough to such land when the ship ran aground. To this day I have never been able to explain how that happened. The only thing I can take a wild guess at is fate, again. It's laughable for James and I that we did not recognise such things as they happened. We are both astute intelligent people after all, and we chose to ignore what was staring us in the face. Maybe if we had seen all of this as it occurred, we would not have come together in the way we did though. I'm sure you'll find my familiarity to him rather odd in that I call him by his Christian name and have done for a long time now. for most of my tale though we were not as well acquainted. I called him by his title of Commodore for the most part, if not all of it. I knew his name though and who could not, when such tales were already told of him. He wished to single-handedly rid the Caribbean of pirates and was fairly on his way to doing so. He did not know my name though. He knew my face perhaps, or my accent. No, I'm lying. He's told me since that it was my hair he recognised. Whilst there were many upon the sea with locks of a russet hue, mine had such a vivid colour as to be memorable to many. They say that people caught a glimpse of my hair and knew that Mick O'Malley was not far away.

Afterwards, I'd be glad that I could not find sleep. There was a sense of calmness within the tavern despite the chaos still ensuing down in the lower part of the town, but the sound of glass shattering broke my pained stupor and I shot upright. it wasn't the sound of drunkards throwing glass bottles outside and was clearly coming from the bar area of the tavern. Hurrying to make myself decent again, I hastily tied my scarf around my shoulder in the best bandage I could manage with only one hand and crept soundlessly out of my room and down the darkened hallway. Reaching the passageway that looked out across the bar I crouched down and slid along the floor, my shoulder almost screaming in protest at such a leaning position. I bit down on my bottom lip to stop myself whimpering in reaction to the pain and slid onwards towards a gap in the wooden spokes, now very aware of the sound of men crashing through the bar. I heard a yelp suddenly and glanced to the left. The young Chinese woman I had met earlier had evidently done the same as I, and had crept along the back passage behind the bar towards all of the noise. She had been seen though. I couldn't see the men's faces as they moved towards the girl, but I could tell they were not what would be classed as well dressed. it had crossed my mind succinctly that the man who had climbed aboard The Grace and shot my friend was returning for a second shot at myself but that idea quickly left my mind as I saw how roughly this band of men behaved. The girl was yanked around the bar by her hair as she tried in vain to pull away, shouting garbled threats in what was obviously Chinese.

"There's a necklace here," snarled the man who held her by the hair. "Give it to us and no harm shall befall you!"

The young woman shook her head and for a second I wondered whether she hadn't understood what he had said, but then I recalled that she had clearly understood me very well earlier on. That was when it sank in. I'd given up a necklace earlier to the landlord. Perhaps that was what these men sought. I didn't think it possible, for the pendant was just a garbled piece of metal in an Irish design that bore no importance to anyone at all. It had been around my neck for ten or eleven years and I'd never considered it to be of any consequence. The girl was given a rough shake for her non-compliance and I wondered if she thought these men had come for my necklace. If she did think that, she was clearly doing me a favour in not speaking out.

Whilst I did believe my necklace to be worth no more than a few coins, the niggling reminder jarred in my brain that I had plucked it from a field in Ireland so long ago and knew not where it came from or who it had previously belonged to. You might think I've somewhat of a death wish to consider going to the young woman's aid and perhaps you'd be right. It was a reckless thing to do when perhaps I could have found another way to leave the building. I knew Navy men were docked nearby and could go for help but I had a sickening feeling that the young woman would not last that long. I took in the heads of nine men, and how far they were all now standing from the shattered windows and doors. They all had muskets and all I had was a short dagger stuffed into the belt that held up my skirt.

I crept further along the balcony until I reached the top of the steps, hoping they would not know I was there until I was upon them. I did not get my wish though. Too late I heard the hurried footsteps behind me and glanced up to see the landlord racing towards me. before I could ascertain whether he planned to help or hinder, he had swung one of his large booted feet in my direction and even as I reached out to grab at the wooden spokes of wood I tumbled down the stairs onto the flagstones of the bar area. Each step knocked into my injured shoulder and I knew it was bleeding again as I rolled into a table and sent the chairs skidding away across the floor.

"She brought the necklace, take her too!" the landlord roared. "I want no trouble here!"

One man had already caught sight of the necklace on a shelf behind the bar, but I was already on my feet and determined to beat him to it. I vaulted over the bar as I reached it, scattering glasses and bottles which fell to the floor and smashed. As I reached my hand out to take back the necklace, the bottle just to the left of my face shattered and I felt shards of glass scrape my face as they flew in every direction. grabbing the necklace I turned back to the room to find the man who had also been on his way towards the necklace slumped over the bar. One of his friends had clearly tried to shoot me and in the near darkness they had hit him instead. I ducked below the bar as more shots were fired and scurried along, wondering if I could reach the shattered windows and make my escape.

"Get me that necklace!" one of the men roared. I stopped to take in the scene before me just below the shattered window and saw the Chinese girl struggling fruitlessly to get away from the two men that held her. "Get me that necklace or I'll kill your girl!"

I realised he was threatening the landlord, who appeared to only care about his own safety. "Do what you want with her, she's nothing to me! I want no trouble here! Kill them, take the necklace and 'ave done!"

The landlord was backing away, broken glass crunching under his booted feet. The group of men seemed undecided, with half of them concentrating their attention on the landlord and the rest gazing at me. I don't know where such thoughts came from; it came to me suddenly that now they knew I'd brought the necklace to Tortuga, they would have no intention of killing me. I could use that to my advantage.

"What's so important about this chunk of metal?" I growled at the man nearest me as I held up the necklace. "You'll tell me or I'll stamp all over it!"

The man laughed as he advanced towards me and I caught the slightest trace of whiskey on his breath. I ducked out of the way just as he lunged and slid across the floor, the necklace still held tightly in my hands. The man gave a yelp as he landed in the shards of broken glass strewn all around the front of the bar and I'll admit in that second to wincing a little as I imagined his pain. I say imagined, but I knew what such pain was like and my injured knee twinged as if in remembrance. I had no need to imagine it. I was now closer to the Chinese girl and I grabbed her hand, aiming a ferocious kick at one of the men who held her as I pulled her down to the floor with me.

"MOVE!" I bellowed at her as she remained frozen to the spot. "MOVE NOW!" I gave her arm a shake and she came to her senses again. She crawled until she was underneath one of the tables but I'd already been lifted off my feet. held up in the air, my feet dangling; I finally grabbed the knife hidden away beneath my belt. I placed it against his side as I held the necklace up and stared determinedly down into the eyes of the man that held my waist in a vice like grip. The other men had stopped moving, even the landlord. They were all looking to the man who held me for instruction and I have to say I struck lucky in choosing to threaten their leader.

"I'll not ask again!" I barked, still suspended in mid air. "What on earth do you want with this necklace? What's so important about it?"

Unbelievably, the man chuckled. I pressed my knife a little more firmly against his side and he stopped laughing. "You don't even know what it is do you lass; been carrying such a thing round with you and you don't even know it's power!"

"Power? What power?"

"Been near water lately?" the leader asked with a raised brow. I noted the forced pleasantness in his tone and knew it was because I still held the blade to his side. So he was a coward, a man hired to fetch the necklace for someone else. He wasn't prepared to die for it and that might just work in my favour.

"Of course I've been near water!" I spat. "This whole Island is surrounded by water!"

"Well when you hit the water, this necklace sent out a calling," he said softly. "Magical properties it has, and it's worth a great deal!"

"Do you think I came up the river Liffey in a bubble?" I cried in feigned disbelief as I aimed a harsh kick at his stomach in the hopes that he might drop me. "Magical necklaces? It's a lump of tin!"

My kick did no good, he shook me roughly and I felt the dagger slide between my fingers so that I held onto it only by my fingertips. He laughed as he watched me dangling there for a few seconds before replying. "It's as much a lump of tin as you are lass! Do you know; I reckon you're a real fire cracker once you get goin'! Look at the colour of that hair; sell for a good few guineas that would to the right wig maker!"

He reached up then, taking one hand from my waist to curl a lock of my hair around his finger. "Don't you touch my hair!" I snarled just as shots were fired again. These shots came from the street though. In seconds a sea of blue was swarming the tavern as Navy men clambered through the now glassless windows with their bayonets held aloft. I used the distraction as a chance to free myself and hastily threw the knife in the direction of another of the men as I kicked the one that held me in the chest. He dropped me to the floor as he turned to try and help his men and I cradled my knee where I sat as I tried to discern what was happening. Held aloft, I'd had a reasonable vantage point but from the floor I was hindered by the darkness and the putrid haze of smoke from the muskets.

A few seconds later, I realised I'd dropped the necklace and ignoring the pain in my knee and shoulder I scrambled around on all fours, my hands searching the floor to try and find it again. I was stamped on once or twice as I crawled, but no one paid me much heed until I came up against the table and the young woman's face swam into view. Her hands were visibly shaking, but clutched between them was the small dagger I'd thrown only a moment before. Still to this day I do not know how she came to have it when I threw it in her opposite direction. I have asked, but she's a secretive one is Mai.

when our eyes met she wordlessly handed me back my blade and I nodded stiffly to her in thanks before glancing about for the necklace again. I thought I saw a glint of something on the floor between the many booted feet and began to crawl again, shaking off the girl's hand as she tried to pull me back under the shelter of the table with her. What I thought might have been the necklace however; turned out to be a gold button of a naval coat that had fallen off. I let out a huff of frustration and gave in to the shooting pains in my knee. Gingerly, I raised myself up onto two feet again and was careful to keep my head low so as to be out of reach of the bayonets. candlelight steadily grew warmer around the room as the lanterns were lit one by one and everything seemed to stop still for a moment or two as we all gazed around, trying to figure out what was going on. There were many men pressed down to the floor with an officer pressing either his knee or his bayonet into their backs to keep them in place. It seemed the Navy had outnumbered the other men three to one.

The landlord was standing at the bar with a lit taper still in his hand, lighting the last candle. The Chinese girl was peering out from beneath her table, with an officer holding out a hand to help her to her feet. I sucked in ragged breaths as I glanced about me again for the necklace but couldn't see it anywhere. I hastily stuffed my blade back into my belt, eyeing the officers warily in case one should turn on me.

"Why on earth did you let this 'appen?" the landlord roared suddenly as he approached the Chinese girl. "Look what they've done to the place!" The Naval officers standing close by moved away to congregate at the broken windows and I alone was left to watch the scene. The attackers were dragged from the floor and marched away or carried out into the night until only a few officers stood by the door. "More trouble than you're worth you are! Why on earth didn't you just give them the damn necklace like they asked?" He pushed the girl roughly then and she fell back into the table, caught unawares by the force he used.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size eh?" I exclaimed as I sidled up to him. The girl glanced at me with fear in her eyes, perhaps trying to warn me. "This is not her fault!"

"No," he snarled suddenly as he rounded on me, "It's yours! All for some damned necklace!"

I realised as he advanced towards me that I'd been wrong to joke about his size. He was much taller than me and a lot quicker on his feet. I backed away towards the bar, my hand flying behind my back to pat along the surface and I laid a hand upon a mercifully full and uncorked bottle of rum. Just as he lifted his own hand to strike me I brought the bottle swinging down upon his head with as much strength as I could find within me. Admittedly, with one hand it was not much strength at all. It was enough though to knock him off his feet and spray us both with shards of glass and rum. You might wonder why I did not procure my blade again, but I did not want to kill the man. After all, he was right. If those men had been seeking my necklace then I had unwillingly brought trouble to his door.

I watched his dazed form upon the floor for a few seconds before turning my attention back to the girl who still appeared frightened. "Why are you working for a bully like that?" I asked her soundly. The girl simply shrugged. "You shouldn't let a man speak to you so!" I announced to her as I moved closer. As I did so, from the corner of my eye I caught sight of movement just behind the bar. Someone had just emerged from the passageway and was scurrying away whilst the Navy dispersed. I moved as quickly as I could, forgetting to disguise my limp as I realised the man who had held me in the air earlier was trying to get away. I was not fool enough to think I could take such a man when injured. He was twice the size of the landlord and his reactions appeared a lot quicker. Just as he reached the broken windows I tore my blade from my belt with my injured arm, my good one still holding in it's hand the neck of a broken bottle. I made a swipe with the dagger, just close enough to him to gouge a cut in his forearm deep enough to scar.

"Marked!" I cried as the shock registered in his face. I knew now that I'd know the man if I saw him again from such a scar. I had not anticipated that in his need to flee he'd think to turn back around. He grabbed the hand that held the blade and twisted my wrist so much that I screamed. I slid backwards as he pushed into me, holding the knife to my throat as we both toppled to the ground. It's a miracle that the blade didn't tear me apart with such a movement, but it was something O'Malley had given me and I'd always considered it rather lucky. That moment proved to be no exception. Before either of us had time to blink, a resounding click told me someone had cocked a pistol and sure enough, it appeared at the side of the man's head.

"Are you terribly sure that's wise Sir?" asked a bored voice from above. The man pressing me into the flagstone floor froze as he clearly recognised the voice. Arms clad in blue cotton appeared from nowhere to prise him off me but his wrist still held mine ever so tightly. Another hand joined it and gently began to prise his fingers from my skin. I don't recall hitting my head as I fell, but I have no reason for the daze I'd fallen into in those few seconds. I observed what was going on and remember it well, but I neither moved or spoke as I would normally have done in such a situation. Maybe it's the Irish in me that renders me incapable of lying down to take the abuse of another so I don't know why all of that failed me in that moment. James has since joked once or twice that it was the effect of being in his presence.

All I know is the next movement I made was to reach out and take the hand that was offered to help me up onto my feet again as I stared into the eyes of James Norrington. Miss...?" His hand lingered in mine for a second too long and I thought it was because he was unsure if I could stay upright without aid. I ignored his query for my name as I had done once before and then I saw his eyes briefly flicker over my bloody shirt and neck and then his hand slipped out of mine. I recognised the officers grappling with the man who had just attacked me as two Lieutenants that O'Malley and I had saved along with James all those months ago. they were searching the man's pockets as he struggled and from one Lieutenant Groves pulled the gold chain and pendant that was my necklace. the Lieutenant's eyes met mine briefly for a second and I can't help but wonder now just how much he knew about me in that moment. Whatever he thought though, he remained silent as he presented his find to James.

James curiously watched my possessive gaze as the necklace landed in his palm and he fingered the dirty gold pendant for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate what to do with such a thing before he sighed heavily. "Yours I presume, Miss?"

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona meets Jack Sparrow again!**_


	4. Chapter Four - The Knave

**So I've finally managed to pluck up the courage to write some Sparrow. He's the character I'm most scared of writing for as he is so unpredictable and a little mad but let me know if the characterisation is right or a little off!**

 ***A Knave is another word for the Jack in a deck of cards.**

 *** A few sea monsters are mentioned here, so keep an eye out for at least one of them further on in this story!**

 **I only own Fiona.**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Four - The Knave_**

You might all ask why I should have hesitated to place my trust in such a man as James Norrington when he had in fact shown me kindness earlier that same evening; perhaps even sympathised with me. I don't know why I felt some inking of wariness as he held up my necklace before his eyes and examined it. I suppose I should say that I knew I was in no physical danger in that moment, but you see there are many things I had still intended to keep to myself back then, things that only Mick O'Malley had ever known. I hadn't even agreed to tell Mick; he'd guessed. I never have liked people asking too many questions about myself and that necklace belonged to a young girl who had changed so irrevocably over the six years she'd spent at sea that to me she was unrecognisable. If James were to ask me about her, what on earth was I to say? I hadn't yet learned to answer such queries.

He didn't seem perturbed that I offered him no reply as to my ownership of the necklace and continued to rub his thumb over the metal as it lay in his palm again. His expression was one of confusion as he appeared to find nothing exceptional about it. "Has anything else been taken?" His shrewd eyes were upon me then and I shook my head blandly, now desperate to take back the necklace and run from him before he undoubtedly asked something else I would not be able to answer. "Curious," James muttered then almost to himself. "That such a trinket should warrant an ambush such as this. What need could such men have of it?"

I ignored the blatant thoughts stampeding through my mind that the ambush had certainly not been masterminded by the man who had attacked me moments before or of his friends, but by someone far away who had commissioned them to procure the necklace. "I don't know that they came here for it," I replied in a much more confident voice than I had expected. "It was set behind the bar on a shelf. They must have thought it was worth something. Of course, its just a lump of dirty old metal I plucked from a field back home. "

He's never told me whether he knew in that moment if I was lying or not. If I'm honest, I didn't know myself. Whilst to me, the lump of gold shaped in a trinity knot design with a triangle shaped dirty gem in the middle was just something that had caught my eye one day as it glinted prettily in the rare Irish sunlight; to someone else it might have meant a great deal. James had fixed me with a shrewd stare. "So it is of little value to you?"

I realised what he meant very quickly. If it was a trinket of little importance, why had I been so eager to find it again? I shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "I suppose it's something from home. It's all I have of Ireland. It was enough to fetch me a few night's stay here so it's obviously worth something."

James nodded, seeming to believe what I'd said but his thumb still ghosted over the Irish design of weaved metal. I don't know why but I held out my hand suddenly to take it back. I should not have presumed to be so forward with him, but it was almost an automatic reaction. I saw those emerald green eyes widen a little in recognition of the movement, but he made no effort to return the necklace to me. He gazed down at it in the palm of his hand for what felt like an age, seemingly transfixed by it until...

"Commodore Sir?" came a shout from the doorway where an officer stood. The trance-like stare was broken and I felt the cold metal land in my palm again. He walked away without another glance to me and I couldn't fathom where his reluctance to return the necklace had come from. His men followed him, leaving the destruction of the inn behind them. I spun around where I stood, catching sight of the Chinese woman behind the bar, trying to brush up some of the shards of glass.

broken bottles littered the bar surface and I approached and lifted each in turn until I found one that still contained some liquid. I lifted the jagged neck of the bottle not to drink from it, but to pour some over the pendant held in the palm of my hand. With the end of my shirt sleeve I scrubbed at the gold, a grey sort of residue beginning to lift from the gold in reaction to the alcohol and the rubbing of the rough linen of my shirt. The gold came up shining, and it was cleaner than I had ever seen it. it had never occurred to me to clean the old thing before and perhaps that was because I had almost a detachment to it. I carried it as a reminder of where I came from and would not let myself forget, but in truth I wouldn't let myself dwell too much on it. That was why I had neglected to clean it. I kept rubbing, removing the years old coating of grime until the pendant was as bright as it was ever going to be. The gem encased within the trinity knot had always resembled a murky kind of colour before to me but in that moment it shone a healthy pink colour. Now of course, I know the stone is rose quartz but back then I did not have much inkling about crystals. Of course the pendant was not unlike things I'd seen before in Ireland with the trinity knot being quite a common design. It was the crystal that was unusual, and not just for it's colour. It likely meant the necklace was worth a little more than I had considered before as it was so unique.

Unique it was, and it was also dangerous. Those men had found it so easily. I had no right to leave it behind when I was unsure just what they wanted with it. I couldn't leave it in someone else's possession only for them to face some sort of attack. I'd brought it all the way out to the Caribbean with me, so it was my burden to bear. I placed the chain over my head again and let the pendant fall to rest against my chest. When I looked away from it, the Chinese girl was watching me with shameless curiosity.

"They...come...again," she slowly announced as a growing frown told me she was searching her mind for the right English words to explain her thoughts.

I nodded. "I think they will, but not here. I don't know why those men want my necklace but I won't leave it here for someone else to fall to harm because of it." It occurred to me then that she may have been worried about what the landlord would say when he regained consciousness and saw that the necklace was gone. I fumbled in my pocket for the rings belonging to my mother and produced them in the palm of my hand. I didn't want to part with such treasures if I could help it, but to me in that moment I had no choice. The necklace was a predicament and a riddle all in one and I could feel the coolness of it as it rested just over my heart. It was calling to me.

I'd felt that kind of pull towards something only once before in my life; back on that beach in Ireland when I'd thought there was nothing left to live for. The sea had called to me and had in time shown me a future. Was the necklace sensing my grief and despair and trying to do the same? I slammed the rings down on the surface of the bar as a new determination overtook me to really leave the memories of so long ago in the past and move on. "Take these in place of the necklace," I told the Chinese girl. "I don't know whether they are worth more or less than it but I hope it placates your boss enough."

My hand was still hovering over the pieces of jewellery though, reluctant to bid farewell to the trinkets that were all I had left of my mother. In truth I had not been gifted them. I had stolen them from her. I doubt she minded really. She was probably oddly touched that before I left I chose some things of hers to smuggle with me when I first left and went to England. I had needed the comfort of them so much back then, but my mother was dead now and that comfort meant nothing to me. There was nothing for me to ever go back to. I snatched my hand back abruptly and stuffed it into my pocket, resigning myself to a future without looking back. The girl gingerly gathered up the rings into her own hands and gazed at them only for a few seconds before she held out her hands to me, her dark brown eyes imploring me to take back what was once mine. I shook my head at her but she only pushed her hands further towards me.

I don't know what caught my attention so much about the girl then but I let her drop the rings back into my hand. The idea formed very quickly in my mind but I hesitated to speak of it so freely, lest I offended her. "What's your name?" I asked her before she could turn back to the shards of glass again.

"Mai..." she said hesitantly as she took a step backwards. I wondered just how long ago it was that someone had actually asked her that.

"I'm Fiona," I said with much more confidence than I felt. I spared the now feebly stirring landlord a swift and disdainful glance before I returned my eyes to Mai's. "I don't know what kind of life you have here Mai. All I know is that it's nothing I'd have ever chosen for myself. I have no idea where I'm going or where my own life will take me and so I suppose it's foolish of me to offer you anything at all. If you wanted to though, you could come with me to wherever I might go. I have gold you see; or at least I will when I find the man that owes me that gold. Is this how you want to spend your life; taking orders from that bully?"

"Man...give...gold...?" Her stunted words were a question and it took me a few seconds to work out just what it was she meant.

"Oh...Oh yes he will give me what he owes me. He knows better than to try and keep it from me," I said quietly. "I just have to find the man first. He's notoriously difficult to pin down but then I suppose that's only to be expected of a pirate!"

"Pirate?" I thought I had frightened the young woman off when I first heard the shock in her voice. "What name?"

"Jack Sparrow," I supplied with little expectation. It was a huge surprise therefore, when Mai smiled at me.

Rings back in my pocket, Mai was dragging me along the crowded seafront street of Tortuga by my hand. Don't ask me why I knew Mai was going to become an important part of my life because I don't know. All I know is that when she took my hand in her own to guide me, I felt some odd crackling of tension there. It wasn't just the tension in my injured shoulder either. I felt like Mai was someone that I was meant to meet. I'd felt like that when I met Mick you see, and I'd certainly been right about that. We walked on until we were almost at the end of the street and although I had guessed Mai had heard of Jack Sparrow before by her reaction, she had yet to tell me where exactly it was she was leading me. I had certainly considered that she might know of someone who could tell me of the pirate captain's whereabouts but as we reached the end of the street and stopped below the crumbling awning of a building that had clearly seen far better days, I was beginning to have my doubts. The old building did not look safe enough to enter lest the roof collapse in upon itself. I sincerely doubted that there was anyone inside as the windows were shuttered and the door padlocked shut. No noise permeated from inside as was the case of the other buildings along the gloomy quay and when I glanced up I caught sight of an iron bracket protruding from the wall. From that bracket there could once have perhaps been hanging a creaking sign bearing the name of such an establishment. There was no such indication of the building's use in time gone by left to the naked eye and I shook my head roughly as Mai stepped forward and rapped twice upon the door with her knuckles.

I had opened my mouth to tell her that it was no use, that the building was empty and decrepit when I saw some form of movement in the nearby window which had been shrouded in darkness seconds before. My mind rushed to try and tell me it had been a simple flutter of curtains as air filtered through the broken window pane but deep down I knew what I'd seen. A hand had pulled those curtains away from the window just far enough to glimpse who it was that had crept up to their doorstep, seeking entrance.

For an age there was no other sign of life until there came a jarring and rattling sound as a bolt was pulled back and the door opened just far enough for us both to slip inside. I hesitated as Mai moved ahead of me and disappeared into the gloom of the building. Some part of me thought that maybe it was foolish to seek out a man like Jack Sparrow. I could just go home to Ireland, or on somewhere else and try to make some sort of life for myself; but that was not what I wanted. I wanted the money I was owed, and I wanted to sail the seas with a man I could trust. The Question was, who was that man now? Mick was lost to me forever and I wasn't sure if Sparrow could really ever be trusted at all. I knew one thing though. If I wanted to find Mick's brother Patrick, Jack Sparrow would know where he was.

That was why I followed Mai into the crumbling building and into a hallway so dark that I could barely see my own hands as I held them before my face. I felt the small warm hand that belonged to Mai find my arm and she tugged rather roughly. I stifled a yelp as my shoulder seared with pain and began to shuffle along behind her further into the gloom. The passageway seemed to lengthen with each step we took and I suddenly glanced behind me, all too aware that someone had to have unbolted that door to let us in. They were nowhere to be found now, lost to the darkness. At long length I began to discern the frame of a doorway outlined in a strange sort of orange glow. My heart hammered within my chest as I contemplated what it could possibly be that waited for us upon the other side of that door. Mai opened it herself, slowly at first and then as her eyes grew accustomed to the newfound candlelight she let the door fall wide open.

Revealed to me was what had clearly once been quite a grand establishment not quite big enough for an inn or tavern but perhaps for a house? My eyes were immediately drawn upwards to where the walls and old decor of the floors above were all visible because the first and second floors appeared to have fallen away. Instead from the ground we were able to look up into the rafters of the roof. My eyes trailed over the flocked wall-decor of the first floor that would once have made quite a pretty room with it's fireplace still attached, seeming to hover in mid-air. It was a sort of illusion of a time gone by and for a few seconds it trapped me. There was something quite romantic about the old space, with the weeds and exotic flowers mingling with what was clearly a French style of decor. What would the fine lady that may have slept in that first floor room say if she could see it now?

Movement at my side finally drew my attention back to the level I currently stood on. Mai was tugging on my arm to guide me away from a rabid character who was definitely trying to smell my hair. I jerked away from him, scolding myself mentally for momentarily forgetting that despite the unusual scenery I was still in Tortuga and prey to all kinds of creatures. I let Mai lead me forwards into what had become a cosy tavern that was rather crowded. My thirst and hunger came back to me in abundance as I spied the large barrels of wine and rum stacked against one wall but I was not given time to dwell upon such feelings. It was a voice that cut through my hunger like a knife through butter, swelling my dashed hopes and restoring my faith in Mai.

"What'll it be Jack? Hearts or Spades?"

"Gibbs?" I muttered as I glanced around me but could not see the man.

"Diamonds Gibbs...always diamonds!"

I slipped my arm out of Mai's grasp and began to move through the mass of drunkards who cajoled and barked at my rudeness but I didn't care. I pushed and shoved at each body I met, ignoring the tell-tale stench of body fluids and odour, dodging the overflowing tankards as men lifted them into the air and jeered, the rum slopping down the sides of their coats and onto the floor. I began to scan the tables I caught sight of, looking for the owners of the voices I had just heard but it was Mai who finally found them. In all honesty I don't know how I missed them as they were right behind me.

"I thought the knave was more your type, Jack." If I'd wanted dramatics, I certainly got them. Jack Sparrow shot up rather haphazardly from his chair which tumbled onto its side and glared at me so fiercely I'm surprised I wasn't burned by the heat of his gaze.

That fierceness gave way to confusion all too soon as he swayed where he stood. "Hide the rum!" he bellowed to no one in particular as he raised an unsteady hand to point at me.

"Miss?" Gibbs muttered as he too stood from his chair. "Miss...we thought ye all were lost to the bottom of the sea!"

from around the table I could see members of Sparrow's crew but in that moment I could recall only the names of those who I had met and spoken with before. One face stood out amongst them all and for the first time since I'd woken on the beach or perhaps even since Mick had forced me awake in the middle of that storm, I felt a sense of calmness begin to overtake me. Anamaria offered me only the slightest of nods.

I realised I was staring after a few minutes had undoubtedly passed and averted my gaze, returning my eyes to Gibbs who looked upon me as if I were some sort of mythical sea creature. "What you heard is true for the most part; but I alone survived to tell the tale."

"To hell with that," Sparrow crowed. "The Irish and their drinking; hide the rum!"

"I DON'T WANT YOUR RUM!" I cried in a sudden high-pitched tone that not even I recognised. "I just want what's owed."

"You will get it," Anamaria replied in clipped tones as she climbed over Sparrow's fallen chair to reach me and with a hand on my healthy shoulder, pushed me to sit in a chair. "I'll make sure of it."

With nimble fingers that were far gentler than would be expected of such a coarse woman, Anamaria tugged at my makeshift scarf bandage until it fell away and Gibbs who looked on, recoiled. "What horrors befell ye beneath the sea miss; to scar so deeply?"

"Was it a Qalupalik?" Ragetti asked suddenly.

Before I could shake my head Pintel stepped forward. "Or an Afane?"

"Worse than any sea monster..." I grumbled heavily as I felt pain begin to set in. It seemed my makeshift bandage had applied pressure to my shoulder, relieving the pain a little. "It was a man."

"A Kelpie then?" Ragetti pressed. "They're a type of water demon that can take the form of a horse or a man and lure people-"

"Enough!" Anamaria barked suddenly. I'd slumped back in the chair as I felt the room begin to spin on it's axis, my feet seeming to leave the ground as I felt a sort of weightlessness overtake me. I considered at the time that it would have been a relief to let the darkness envelope me even if it was only for a few minutes, to forget all that had passed; sure in the knowledge that Anamaria would let no harm come to me. I'd met the woman only a handful of times in my life upon the sea, but she'd instilled such a sense of comfort and a kind of adoration in me that I'd come to trust her without realising it. Always clothed in men's garments, with long dark hair that cascaded down her back and those perceptive co-co brown eyes that seemed to see a lot more than the rest of the world; Anamaria was everything I'd wanted to be since I'd first met her. Granted, I'd no desire to run with pirates or become one myself if I could help it but there was something so striking about that pillar of strength and resilience that was encased in her thin body that I couldn't help admiring. Mick had admired her too; at least from a red blooded male's perspective. I know he found her alluring and attractive but he made no attempt to woo her. He believed she was meant for Jack Sparrow and did not wish to meddle in what was meant to be. Mick was like that. There was also the simple fact that he'd never really gotten over his late wife.

Looking back, I'm not really sure if I was entirely conscious whilst Anamaria began to try and clean the wound in my shoulder. I remember quite clearly the pain of it, and of how a scream had torn from my throat as a needle pierced my skin and she began her needlework. It's all a little hazy. The next thing I clearly remember is sitting at the table, with my scarf around my shoulder again as a support, with a bottle of rum before me and Jack Sparrow sat across from me, eyeing me warily. All around us the festivities continued and I've still no idea what they were celebrating that night. I didn't care. I had no heart within me back then to care for anyone's happiness.

Anamaria had retreated to the bar some time ago after she realised I was in no mood for talking. I'd recanted my story to them rather numbly, as if it meant nothing to me any more. It was strange to think I'd done so not even twelve hours before to someone so wholly different and removed from me and I'd been greatly upset. With a band of pirates who I knew in a round about way though, it seemed as if it was part of another life. Only Mai, Sparrow and Gibbs remained at the small table with me. I knew what I needed to ask Sparrow, but thoughts of the gold he owed me paled into insignificance compared to finding out the whereabouts of Patrick O'Malley.

"S'good man was your captain," Sparrow slurred suddenly as his woeful eyes reached mine. "Respected by'll 'e was..."

"So respected they shot him for it," I replied sharply.

"Ev'thing must pale to 'significance without 'im..." he added.

I quirked an eyebrow. His sympathy wasn't as well founded as he would have me believe. "You're right Jack; but I do believe that gold you owe me would enable me to get back upon my feet. O'Malley's share would be mine now too of course."

I saw how quickly his eyes went from placid to alert at the mention of gold. "Now now love, lets not forget that I myself am teetering on the brink of-"

"You'll give me my gold Jack. Do you think I'm not the full shilling or something?" I sat forward in my chair and fixed him with a determined stare, ignoring the painful protest of my shoulder.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I saw him falter a little as he glanced at something or someone over my shoulder. "I...Well... you'll have your share love." Anamaria took her place in the empty chair beside me and Sparrow's hesitation was explained. I wanted to have that power over men. "Thing is... you may have to return to me again for your beloved Captain's share. I've only a little of it on me now, savvy?"

I sighed heavily as I nodded in understanding. "Give me what you've got now Jack, and let me and my new Chinese friend sail with you until we come across Patrick O'Malley and we'll forget the rest of the gold."

I felt Anamaria's piercing eyes upon the side of my face then, but she said nothing. "Off to find your bonny lad are ya?" Jack asked then, a little mischief in his eyes. "I always wondered which O'Malley brother it was that took your fancy."

"Mick was my family, so Patrick is too. Even if he is a scoundrel." I waved away the offer of some more rum. "Sail me to Patrick O'Malley Jack, and you can keep Mick's share of the gold altogether."

* * *

 **In the next chapter Fiona is back where she belongs; upon the sea and we see a bit more of Jack Sparrow, and of course James Norrington!**


	5. Chapter Five - Her South China Sea Eyes

_**Chapter Five - Her South China Sea Eyes**_

 **In which we find out a little bit more about Mai, and Fiona learns that her fate is something she cannot change, no matter how hard she tries.**

 _ **Her South China Sea Eyes - William Jude Aher**_

 _Young girl_  
 _with her South China Sea_  
 _eyes_  
 _where an ocean wind_  
 _sighs_  
 _stands as she tries._

 _In the silence_  
 _between day and night_  
 _between hope and dreaming,_  
 _water is carved_  
 _deep_  
 _in where a poet grows_  
 _where a child to woman_  
 _perceives._

 _A young girl dares_  
 _to paint_  
 _her colors true_  
 _to dance_  
 _her words free._

 _when only a poet believes_  
 _a young girl bleeds_  
 _her south china sea eyes_  
 _open_  
 _standing_  
 _where only a poet_  
 _dares to see._

* * *

I think in part I may blame my error of judgement in trusting Sparrow upon both my physical and mental weakness in that moment. drained by my shoulder injury and the subsequent fight, I wasn't really in my right mind to be making such rash decisions upon a whim. Of course that's what I tell people, and I know I've angered Mick's memory in doing so. I made a promise to him very early on that I wouldn't make excuses for the decisions I made in my life, or try to distract from them with notions of physical weakness even if I was suffering greatly. At the time I did not know how my emotions would manifest but I was certainly determined to hide them from everyone. Perhaps what Mick would have wanted me to do was throw myself down upon the floor as a disobedient and spoilt child would; screaming and punching the floor beneath me until I got my way, or in this case delayed the inevitable.

I've never really been the type to talk about my emotions though. I let Anamaria fuss over my shoulder, letting everyone else utter words of pity and astonishment at Mick's passing and resolutely refused to speak of it myself. I locked away all of my loss and grief because I thought that was the greatest weakness. I thought no one would ever give me employment or take me aboard a ship if they thought I was not entirely stable and I couldn't risk being left behind. Now that I know a little more about Jack Sparrow, I understand that he would not have left me behind anyway.

I might have thought I was being clever in bribing him to take me to Patrick O'Malley but I should not have been so irrevocably foolish. Of course Sparrow never does anything unless it will in some way benefit himself. Perhaps it was also my lacking confidence that blinded me to the fact that I had something that Sparrow was in great need of. As ever, he was smart in his approach to revealing such motives to me, waiting until we had set sail and were far enough away from land as to make an escape attempt rather foolhardy. Mai and I had clambered tiredly aboard The Black Pearl the morning after I'd come face to face with Jack Sparrow once again and I was feeling decidedly worse. Having slept in a rickety chair in the inn we'd found Sparrow frequenting, I'd had a disturbed sleep and I suppose looking back that shock setting in had only added to the numbing effect that had overtaken my left side. I could just about place one foot in front of the other, but my arm was hanging limply at my side and refusing to co-operate entirely. I suppose I should have been glad really, for lack of movement ensured I did not unnecessarily jostle my injured shoulder.

Anamaria gave the orders that I was to do as little as possible until I had recovered somewhat, even though anything nothing should have been expected of me anyway as technically Sparrow was doing me a favour. When it comes to sailing though, you can never know when you will need extra help. There was many a time after facing a fierce storm that Mick voiced his regrets of not taking on more hands when we last made port. I don't think it was ever money that stopped Mick from employing anyone else, but rather the act of having to trust new people. In the six years that I was with him, he only took on two others and one of them he already knew. We made rare stops on the South West coast of Ireland for trading purposes and on one such occasion, an old friend of Mick's joined the crew. He'd just lost his son and Mick could certainly identify with the man's need to leave home and free himself from all of the memories and grief surrounding him. The other was a boy a few years younger than me, but yet again Mick had felt unable to leave the boy behind. There was something about Brennan that captured us all unawares. He came aboard in Southampton three years after I joined the crew and a more decrepit creature I had never seen before. He'd left Ireland determined to make a fortune for himself as so many did, but he'd not even had enough money to feed himself let alone send money back home to his family of younger sisters. He'd been too ashamed to return home to his family after months of not sending them anything back. Whilst I felt for the boy, I Couldn't imagine his family being too angry with him. He refused to talk about it after a while and I cant blame him for that. Not many of the men aboard The Grace wanted to talk about the past. It was as if Mick had come along and given them a new lease of life; one that rendered the memories of the past somehow null and void.

prohibited from doing much at all, I wandered towards the bow of the ship when Mai was finally recruited to repair some sails that had torn in a storm. I had put up a good argument that I could sew just as well, but a stern glare from Anamaria told me my protests were pointless. I took refuge upon the Forecastle deck and sat there, watching the movement of the water as gradually we increased in speed. That's how I spent my afternoon and most of the early evening. I was glad to have my thoughts to myself and to be undisturbed but I was greatly missing the life and the people I had known for the last six years. It might seem strange that a young woman my age might miss a rambunctious crew of slightly aging Irishmen who spouted foul language and lewd jokes all the live long day and sang strange songs and Irish airs in a thick Gaelic that only the Irish could hope to understand; but in truth there was nowhere I'd felt as whole and free. Oddly as the only woman aboard, I'd never felt more respected and as equally viewed in my life. There was no way to describe Mick's handpicked crew of Irishmen from all walks of life other than thoroughly decent. That was how I knew Mick was a good man in the beginning, someone to be trusted no matter the situation.

I jerked upwards in surprise as Jack Sparrow broke my melancholy stupor. He wandered ahead of me to look out over the bow. If I'd been more naive, I might have thought he hadn't noticed my presence, but I knew that Sparrow was a lot more than a permanently rum drunk fool. There was an extremely well disguised shrewdness to him that often presented itself as recklessness. He was silent for so long that I could be in no doubt he wanted me to begin the conversation but I was at a loss for what to say. It did cross my mind to thank him for willingly taking me on, but then I recalled that he was in fact doing me a favour. Instead I decided to follow a slightly different route and ask him why he had permitted me to come aboard his precious pearl.

"So when do I get to find out what exactly it is that you want from me Jack?" I asked with no attempt at subtlety whatsoever. "I know how unlucky it is for you to bring me aboard your ship after what's happened to me. I'm the biggest bad omen you could find right about now. I know there's many other captains who would be too frightened to bring me aboard lest their ship go the same way as O'Malley's."

Sparrow turned slowly to gaze at me, his vacant expression more than likely a mask to hide the cogs turning in his brain, trying to find an answer to my overactive mind. I'll be honest; it wouldn't be all that hard for me to find work aboard another ship. Mick O'Malley was very well respected upon the sea and that stood to fair me well. I was Irish though, so I could recognise another superstitious being easily enough. That's what Jack Sparrow was, and Mick had been so too. So am I in some ways.

"You ain't a bad omen love, you're a gift sent from God at precisely the right time," he mused as he leaned against the rail behind him. "Meaning no disrespect to your late Captain o'course. They don't make 'em like Mick O'Malley any more; good man 'e was."

"I know he was a good man Jack, I sailed with him for long enough!" I did feel he'd disrespected Mick, so much so that I didn't really take on board fully what he had said.

"See that's why I need your help love, because you've got the experience!"

"Help?" I queried. "What on earth could you possibly need my help with. You've a crew of pirates at your disposal Jack Sparrow! Why would you need me? I'm not willing to do half of what your own people will."

He chuckled dryly then. With a rather flamboyant wave of his hand he gestured to the rest of his ship. "You're already breaking enough laws to get yourself hanged Miss O'Connell. You'd be condemned just for meeting with me in Tortuga, let alone sailing with me. Aiding and abetting a pirate, that's what that is." he turned away from the view of his ship then and gazed not down at the water but out towards the now barely visible horizon. "You were O'Malley's first mate. Not a lot of women can boast of such a rank at sea, if any. There were better men than you aboard that ship and not even you will deny that, love. I know you're Mick's golden girl because you've got some ingrained sort of skill with charts and navigation, almost akin to the training a Naval man must undertake in navigation from what I've heard."

"I'm better," I snapped in reply as I began to see where the conversation was leading. "Doesn't mean I'll help you find whatever it is you're looking for though Jack!"

"Like the confidence though love, be careful it doesn't go to your head now won't ya?" I shook my head in annoyance but stopped with a wince as it pained my shoulder. I pulled myself into a better sitting position, realising that lying against the decking all afternoon in one motion had made my whole body rather stiff. How had I even questioned Sparrow's motives? Of course he was looking for something! "But as I recall you want me to take me to your beloved Patrick, and what better way to greet him than with as much gold as you can carry on that scrawny little back of yours?"

I let out a short back of incredulous laughter that only made Sparrow grin even more. "I doubt I could carry very much right now owing to the state my shoulder's in Jack; and I've already got gold, remember?"

"I don't think you understand love, this treasure is the epitome of all that there ever was. We find that, and none of us will ever want for anything again."

I could see the just from the one side of his face that was within my view that his eye was glistening with some sort of spark, so alive with hope and expectation. "I didn't have you down as that kind of man, Sparrow," I supplied evenly. "I thought this would be your life forever. I cant imagine you taking a sack full of gold and disappearing off into the sunset."

"I wouldn't need to love," he said as he turned to face me then and crouched to my level, with his knees only a few inches from the ground. "Not if I had _The Crown of Immortality_."

Now whilst I am superstitious, I'm not a complete moron. If someone says something like that to you, there's questions that need asking. " _The Crown of Immortality_? " I repeated incredulously. "What's that when it's at home?"

"A mythical sword that kills sea monsters love, what do you think it is? No, it's said the crown can grant the wearer immortality."

"Is that what you want then, Jack? Immortality?" I questioned.

"Doesn't everyone," he replied with a wicked grin.

"I don't," surprised myself at how honest I was. "I cant think of anything worse."

"Ah but you're just going through a rough patch now love. You just need to tell yourself that all you've seen in the last few days is a bad dream, that's how I remember the bad. Wait until your with your bonnie Patrick and you'll think differently on it all! Mick certainly wouldn't have wanted you to think like that would he? He'd want you to use your skills to help me get that crown and in turn help yourself get to Patrick!"

I snorted in a rather unladylike manner. "For one, Patrick O'Malley is not mine, and I doubt Mick would have wanted me anywhere near his brother. From the stories he told me, he never did think much of his younger sibling."

"I bet that made you want him even more though," mused Sparrow.

"I do not want Patrick!" I roared a little too loudly. "He's a scoundrel. He's family though...all the family I have left in the world. That means something, it has to. Otherwise what else have I got?"

"That's the spirit love! He's a tricky one to pin down though is Patrick, so you can help us out as much as you can whilst I help you get to him."

He had turned and walked away from me rather unsteadily before I had the chance to retort. From the men I know, I don't know how Sparrow makes even the little sense that he does when he's so inebriated. If I thought that he meant little sense then, I was soon to realise that Sparrow barely uttered a sentence that was followed by another that related in any way to the former. His thought process seemed so haphazard and whimsical that I wondered at him retaining any important information at all in his mind, particularly that of my skill with charts. Although I'd certainly never spoken of such a skill to Sparrow myself, I was willing to bet that Mick had done so. Mick had trusted Sparrow after all. It was a foolish move though, for whilst I sailed with Mick I was entirely safe but without him; anyone who knew even a little of what I could do with or even without a navigational chart would be clamouring for my aid.

I say without; because most of the time I don't need charts. As a child my odd skill manifested itself in peculiar ways, such as recalling where items had been placed in a room or upon a table after glimpsing them for only a few seconds. It began to happen too with pamphlets and letters, where I could within my mind draw upon an image of the ink printed on paper after sparing such things only the slightest of glances. I still vividly recall the expression upon Mick's face as I, a girl of only sixteen recalled the exact placement of the major trading ports of Ireland and England from a map I'd seen three years previously. That was when I became in-expendable to Mick. Over the course of the next few weeks he tested my skill, having me glance at a chart for only a few seconds and then draw most of it from memory. It's like my mind somehow paints an image of everything that I see with my eyes for future reference and it's all completely without any effort on my own part.

I suppose I will never really know just how much Mick had guessed about me during the time I spent at sea with him before his death, but now I look back upon those first few weeks and months as something of a marvel. I went from skin and bone, dressed in rags and sorry enough for myself that I wanted my life to come to an end to a new version of myself that I had never considered possible. I did not spend all of my time pouring over charts though. Life at sea is hard and tiresome work but it did not defeat me as some might have expected it to. The concentration and occupation forced me to spend every waking hour working until I was so exhausted that I could barely stand, tumbling into a low cabin-bed in a jumble of weary limbs with a mind so fizzled that I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. I understand the relentless work now to be a sort of tool Mick used to try and break my depression. I was so tired, my mind so full of tasks yet to be completed that I had no time to feel sorry for myself. It was as I became more acquainted with the crew and grew accustomed to their humour that I finally realised I actually enjoyed my time spent run off my feet. I'd quickly gained the crew's respect as I threw myself at every piece of work thrown down to me and did not argue. I was elected to climb the jib boom at the very front of the ship a fair few times as the jib sails seemed to tangle themselves into knots quite often and I weighed the least. In truth; part of me had hoped I'd slip and fall from it and land in the watery depths below, not able to recover myself in time to escape the bow of the ship as it ploughed into me.

I could have jumped. I know you're certainly thinking that. I didn't though. Each time I climbed onto that jib boom and dragged my weight along it with my hands to untangle the unruly sails, I'd think of letting myself slide off and into the water but it just would not happen. I'd glance behind me and there would be two or three burly Irishmen watching carefully, poised and ready to try and catch me should I fall. They wanted to catch me because they liked me. It took me a while to get my head around that fact but as my limbs grew in strength and muscle, my mind grew in confidence. The crew liked and respected me as I liked them. For one so lonely as I, I cannot even begin to explain to you reader, how much of a difference that made. Companionship with good and decent people who all worked as one was what set me right again, making the tumultuous and terrifying occurrences of my young life almost a distant dream that I did not have to recall if I did not wish to.

I Thought I'd never find that kind of hope again, that feeling of being so entirely at home so far away from the land upon which I was born. That was what drove my incentive to find Patrick O'Malley above all else. In times of trouble, it really is true that we look for those who come from the same place as us; share the same memories and hope as us. I knew of course that I could very well find Patrick and still be unhappy with him, but it was all I had left. I knew what it was like to feel alone before I met Mick, to sink so low that death was enticing. For that reason alone I could not simply find a beautiful island somewhere or even a port town to call home. I would still be very much alone.

It's weird how Sparrow knew all of that about me and used it to gain my help. I had no choice but to guide him and his crew where they wanted to go but how was I to know where this _Crown of Immortality_ was? I'd never heard of the thing before in my life and Mick certainly hadn't either. I pondered just how I would go about finding such a thing when it could have been anywhere in the world, if it was even real. To this day I still do not know how I'd have managed such a thing if I'd actually been given the chance. Now I might see what occurred next as a reprieve, but back then I couldn't have felt any more differently.

I'd spent the majority of the next few days hidden away from the commotion of the rest of the ship , huddled on the forecastle deck wrapped in a thick blanket that did nothing to ease the shivers and chills that my fever had brought on, but each time I considered moving I soon realised I did not have the strength to move about so much. Sparrow left me to my own devices rather reluctantly, per Anamaria's insistence and I'm still grateful to her for that. I would sometimes feel Sparrow's impatient eyes upon me as we ate in the galley, or rather he ate and I pushed my paltry meal around the bowl before allowing someone else to consume it. My appetite along with many other things had simply flown away from me, and whilst I was ill and could not help it for the most part, there will always be that disappointment within me that I let myself get into that state. I was strong, despite my shoulder wound and my bad knee otherwise the fever would have consumed me whole. Without Anamaria's careful attentions to me I'd certainly have let it take me. She did not pester me or force me to eat and participate but rather she ensured my wound was cleaned twice a day and gave instructions for the crew to get me anything I asked for. I never did ask for anything. Mick would have given me a resounding kick and told me to get of my backside and stop feeling sorry for myself as men are want to do, but I think I've found that may be the best way to get myself back upon my feet.

It was on a clear but overcast day that fate began to intervene again. I was nestled on the forecastle deck as usual when the shout went up that another ship had been sighted close by. Now, that had happened a few times already and I'd learned to pay no heed to such announcements but there was some kind of energy in the air that day that had me gingerly pulling myself to my feet. down upon the quarter deck the crew were squinting their eyes against the sun, gazing towards the horizon where we could just make out the mast and sails of another ship. Sparrow did not seem worried as he knew _The Black Pearl_ had yet to meet it's match in speed and the Dauntless which was now at the bottom of the ocean was the only one to ever come close enough. Everyone seemed buoyed by his confidence until that wind picked up. There had been virtually no wind before the sighting of the ship, but as they all stood on and watched, the sails billowed in the wrong direction and the pirate flag atop the mast fought against the oncoming gust. It all happened so quickly that I barely recall it now. My mind was already malfunctioning due to my fever and I was left standing alone as everyone rushed off to try and secure ropes and barrels that miraculously came loose.

If I tell you that I was witness to an act of magic that day, the first one I've really seen with my own eyes, please don't doubt me. I know I was ill, but I know what I saw. Now of course it's all been confirmed that it was Mai, but even then I had my suspicions. From below we could hear the sounds of the cannons rolling around on their casters and the ship listed from side to side in the relentless wind that seemed to have caught us up in it's spell. It was difficult to stay on my feet as I reached for the railings to steady myself and gaze out across the water towards the ship that was now gaining on us.

"That's a Navy ship that is!" Gibbs roared apprehensively as he pulled Sparrow's telescope away from his face.

Before I could offer any reply, the crash of wood upon wood had us both whirling around. The length of wood that rested horizontally a the top of the main mast and held up the sail there had crashed to the deck. I and everyone else aboard the _Pearl_ knew that we would get nowhere fast if it wasn't fixed, but everyone else was already preoccupied. I heard Anamaria call to Mai to ask for her help fixing it and I felt myself frown. That was quite the thing to ask of someone who was not a seasoned sailor. Climbing to the top of the mast in those winds was dangerous to say the least. I glanced around the deck when Mai was not forthcoming and found her standing alone upon the quarter deck, just behind the ship's wheel. In that moment, to anyone else it might have seemed as if Mai was frozen in fright, muttering under her breath. With the superstition of an Irishwoman, I knew that wasn't the case. There was something untoward taking place and I found it as I followed Mai's eye-line out to sea. At that point, it was the strangest thing I'd ever seen. It was as if some form of cloud had floated down towards us and was buffeting the ship backwards. treacherous waves leapt up the sides of the ship as we all stumbled and some fell to the deck. I watched in amazement as the cloud of air began to form some sort of shape where it was hanging, almost resembling a fan that I'd seen in the possession of many women of different classes in the ports I'd visited. I had even owned one myself for a brief time.

I turned to look up again at Mai who still stood on the quarter deck, transfixed by the magical shape mirage I knew she had conjured out of thin air and knew in that instant that she would not help us. I threw off the blanket I'd been wrapped in for three days and weaved my way across the deck as best I could, the force of the wind pushing me back upon myself a few times. Running against the force of it had worn me out before I even reached the mast but with everyone else currently engaged I knew there was little other option but to clamber up the mast myself. I grabbed what was known as the gallant yard and placed it on my good shoulder, praying I'd have the strength enough to replace it where it belonged. I am glad now that the sail did not fall with it, for that I could not have lifted both myself. I heard Anamaria call out to me to be careful but no one tried to stop me as I climbed the ratline. it seemed they all knew that as one of the smallest aboard, I stood more of a chance of reaching the top unscathed.

I climbed painstakingly slowly, owing to the fact that I was using my left arm to grip the ropes and each time I clenched and unclenched my hand, my shoulder gave a painful twinge. On my right, I used my other hand to hold the long piece of wood upon my shoulder. If something happened upon deck in those moments, I would not know of it. I was so concentrated and engrossed in my foot and hand placements that all the crew could have fallen overboard and I would not have noticed. I soon realised scaling the ratline had been the easy part as I reached the mast and hesitated for a few seconds, trying to work out the best way to reach the top. I could see the crows nest hovering far above me, seeming such a long away away and decided to aim as that for my goal. Once I reached it, I would not have far at all to climb to re-attach the gallant yard.

with my legs wrapped around the mast, I began to shuffle upwards and my stiff and battered knee for once was of use as I felt it lock around the mast. The wait from below upon the deck must have been agonising as they all paused in their own occupations to watch my progress every few minutes. To me it did not feel as long as Anamaria told me it was, but eventually I began to speed up a little as the crows nest drew nearer. With the wind whipping my hair around my face and trying it's hardest to dislodge my skirts from their tangle around my knees where I'd managed to secure my modesty, I felt oddly alive and as if this was what I'd been born to do. I don't know where that spurt of energy came from in those last few moments but as I reached out and took hold of the ropes that would tether the sail to the piece of wood upon my shoulder, it was almost as if I was perfectly well.

The crows nest offered me a place to catch my breath for a moment or two as I glanced upwards towards the top of the mast where I needed to secure the long piece of wood. I had thought that part of my climb would be the easiest but I was very wrong. Having rested, it was very painful trying to shoulder the wood again and shuffle upwards. The blustery wind bit into my fingers, the cold almost forcing me to stop as I fumbled with the ropes that would attach the sail to the wood. It was a lengthy process that required steady hands which I did not have, but eventually the sail was attached and I climbed a little further, shocked at how the wood and sail together weighed so much more. The knots I tied atop the mast were not secure by any means, but perhaps enough to serve us well until someone with steadier hands than I could return to fix them. Just like that all of my energy left me as I finally spared the deck below me a glance and realised that it was all in vain. The Navy ship had gained upon us and was almost alongside _The Pearl_. I could see the Navy men stood to attention, ready to follow whatever orders their commanding officer would give; whether that be to board the enemy ship or fire cannon.

Thoughts of cannon got me moving quickly enough, shimmying down the mast until I had reached the crows nest. I may not have cared much for my own preservement of life but I was not about to suffer the death of plunging from such a height if cannon-fire wrought the mast in two. If I'm honest, I don't recall the rest of my journey back towards the deck. Someone might have climbed up to coax me own or carry me for all I know, but at length my feet landed upon the main deck again and my knees gave way. I'd have fallen if Anamaria hadn't caught me around the waist in that moment. I paid her little attention as I searched the deck for Mai and found her huddled together with the rest of the crew. Clearly, I'd been the only one to see the wind take such a shape at her command. I knew no one would believe me in my feverish state and so I resolved to remain quiet on the subject for the time being.

I could feel Anamaria holding me tightly against her as I sagged into her side and barely heard her whispered orders to stand up straight as unseen hands pushed us into some form of line alongside the rest of the crew. I know now why she did so of course. She thought if they saw me hanging limply by her side they'd think me expendable and throw me over the side.

"Into line, all of you!" came the clipped tones of what could be nothing other than a Navy officer but I did not spare him a glance as weariness set in and my head drooped. I saw only the booted feet of them as they came aboard, pushing _The Pearl_ crew to and fro.

I'd let Anamaria take most of my weight until a voice rang out clearly across the deck that I recognised. "Is she not able to stand upright without aid?"

At once I'd shaken off her supportive arm, swatting her hand away when she tried to support me by taking hold of my arm. I don't know why I was so determined to appear strong before him, when I knew that Sparrow was right and that I would die a pirate's death for my placement upon _The Pearl_. I righted my feet, planting them solidly below me upon the deck and ignored the protests of my bad knee. I gingerly lifted my head up to observe the scene before me of Navy men outnumbering us four to one and gazed into the emerald eyes that five days ago held empathy when they looked upon me. Now James Norrington's eyes were marred with confusion.

* * *

 **So what do you think will happen to them all now? How will Norrington deal with Sparrow and how will Fiona deal with Norrington?**

 **Reviews gratefully accepted!**


	6. Chapter Six - The Dim Grey Sea

_**Chapter six, in which James Norrington and Fiona O'Connell become a little more acquainted. I forgot to mention in the last chapter about Fiona's strange skill with charts and maps. Today we call it eidetic memory, or photographic memory. This is quite common nowadays and probably was in the 17th or 18th century too but there was no name for it, and I'd guess Fiona might have been called a witch in some parts for her odd skill!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Six - The Dim Grey Sea**_

 _ **The Rose of Battle - W.B. Yeats**_

 _Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!_

 _The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled_

 _Above the tide of hours, trouble the air,_

 _And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care;_

 _While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band_

 _With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand,_

 _Turn if you may from battles never done,_

 _I call, as they go by me one by one,_

 _Danger no refuge holds, and war no peace,_

 _For him who hears love sing and never cease,_

 _Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:_

 _But gather all for whom no love hath made_

 _A woven silence, or but came to cast_

 _A song into the air, and singing passed_

 _To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you_

 _Who have sought more than is in rain or dew,_

 _Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,_

 _Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth,_

 _Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips,_

 _And wage God's battles in the long grey ships._

 _The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,_

 _To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;_

 _God's bell has claimed them by the little cry_

 _Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die._

 _Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!_

 _You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled_

 _Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring_

 _The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing._

 _Beauty grown sad with its eternity_

 _Made you of us, and of the dim grey sea._

 _Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,_

 _For God has bid them share an equal fate;_

 _And when at last, defeated in His wars,_

 _They have gone down under the same white stars,_

 _We shall no longer hear the little cry_

 _Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die._

* * *

Sure don't they say that money can't buy happiness? Don't they say that 'tis better to live the life of a pauper who may marry who he pleases and drink where he wants, rather than live the suffocated life of the aristocracy? I'd walked both paths and found them wanting by the time we stood aboard the The Surgence on that overcast day, with Jack Sparrow frothing at the mouth at the thought of his beloved Pearl in the hands of Commodore Norrington. For the rest of us, it was our very lives that we felt sure we would part with soon. The officer wasted no time in herding us across a slim plank towards the gangway of the Navy ship and I shuffled along as best I could, with Mai leading me and Anamaria holding me up from behind. We stood in line again and some of the others watched as the Pearl was tethered to the Commodore's newly acquired ship that had somehow managed to outrun the fastest ship in the Caribbean. It seemed to me that the rather grief stricken Commodore that I had found cause to sympathise with had not been so devoted to his famed Dauntless after all. This new Ship of the Line was even faster than it's predecessor and I wondered idly if it could even outrun The Flying Dutchman.

I was swaying precariously where I stood by the time that every last one of James's men had returned to their own ship but each time Anamaria reached out a hand to steady me I shrugged away from her touch. The final time that she attempted such assistance, I batted her hand away quickly and she made an angry noise of submittal in her throat as she finally let her arm hang by her side. Our exchange had not gone unnoticed. James stepped forward, his eyes not upon Anamaria even though I was sure it had been her that drew his attention. As he slowly approached us across the deck I could hear Gibbs mumbling remonstrations to Sparrow who was spitting feathers; spouting torrents of hate at any Navy man who would listen.

The insults and jibes stopped abruptly as Sparrow realised that no one was paying him any attention and that it was in fact myself that James was approaching. as if on instinct my back straightened and I stood taller, trying to forget how weary I felt. Then I dared to look up into those bright eyes that held so much curiosity. he quirked a brow at my apparent confidence but I didn't know what he expected me to do in return. His hand reached up then and I felt a fraction of a second of panic that something untoward was about to happen. Gently taking the lapel of my shirt between two of his fingers he pulled it to the side to reveal my hastily sewn wound. I watched his eyes trace the pattern of needlework that was holding together surprisingly well before his eyes rose to meet mine again.

"You have a fever?" he asked stiffly. I don't know why he asked because he had known I had a fever back in that inn I'd stumbled into in Tortuga. Perhaps he wanted me to admit it as some form of weakness. I nodded because I could not in all honesty deny his question. I was barely able to stand after my escapade in climbing the mast and despite the overcast sky I could feel the beads of sweat upon my upper lip and brow, the layer of it coating my palms and feel it slowly rolling its way into the hollow between my breasts. I felt hotter than the sun on the inside and could feel the heat radiating off my skin but my feet, encased in a pair of flimsy Chinese lotus shoes that I'd bought in a market somewhere were freezing. As I thought of my frozen feet I tried my hardest not to shiver under his observant gaze.

"No thanks to you," Anamaria snarled suddenly from my right. "If your Navy man hadn't shot her-"

"You did not impart that information to me!" James returned sharply as his gaze grew more intense, his fingers still holding the lapel of my shirt. "You did not say it was a man of Naval rank who shot you."

"I never said it was a Navy man," I supplied quietly as I shot a glare at Anamaria. "It was a company man."

"Same difference..." said Anamaria with a shrug.

"No it's not!" I cried. James had opened his mouth to reply too, but I'd beat him to it. He was frowning then as my shirt lapel finally slipped form his fingers to flap back into place and he stepped backwards. His skin had not even touched mine. I now wonder what would have occurred if it had though. Would we have realised back then, so early on in our story that there was some form of intrinsic magic pulling us together, some destiny that awaited us both. He's asked me since rather playfully, if I had wanted his skin to brush against mine in that moment, perhaps his thumb grazing against the base of my neck or upon my jawline as he pulled his hand away. He says he's teasing, but I do think that he sometimes seriously considers that. Like every man, his ego needs sustenance. In truth I thought no such thing at the time. That is, the thought of his touch was not repulsive to me in any way, but neither was it something I considered soothing or even attractive.

"An East India Company man?" he asked from his new vantage point. I nodded and thought I saw his eyes widen a fraction. "You're sure?"

I sighed heavily as my crippled knee gave a twinge of pain and I suddenly longed for a stool beneath me. "Why would I say such a thing if I wasn't?"

I knew that he believed me. It was the stiffest of nods that he gave in reply that told me so. I let my eyes slide to my left and caught Sparrow's calculating gaze. Beneath the rum induced stupor he more than likely hoped my apparent sort of familiarity with the Commodore would somehow render all of his crimes of piracy invalid and he could claim his ship back. Alas, that was not to be.

"Gillette, clap them in irons and escort them to the brig once all injury has been ascertained and effects collected."

"What about my ship?" Sparrow called from my left but I didn't spare him a glance. I couldn't bring myself to look upon him again in that second, for he'd unwittingly been the death of me.

James was still observing me, but he finally turned his attention upon Sparrow and I know I saw a smirk there. He sidestepped a little so that he could watch Sparrow more clearly, to watch the desperation on the pirate's face. "Gentlemen," James quipped jovially. "This is the day you will always remember as the day that the Sparrow flew his proverbial nest forever. Your ship _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, is bound for the nearest port where it will be pulled apart piece by piece and scattered as the repair of other ships demand. Perhaps with no black sails to chase Mr. Sparrow, you will finally commit to meet your maker."

"What about us all?" Gibbs cried above Sparrow's protests.

"That remains to be seen," James replied as he turned his attention back to me. For a few seconds I was pondering his odd reply to Gibbs and did not realise that he was speaking directly to myself. "...the captain's cabin where we might discuss your brush with the East India Trading Company in more detail, miss...?"

When I didn't immediately catch his meaning Anamaria gave me a small shove in the small of my back that sent me flying forward, unsettling my balance even more. I ignored his query of my name again as I righted myself, hoping that if he was so concerned with my fake one, he'd never have cause to discover the real one. I'd never been aboard a ship so vast and in truth although I knew that the captain's cabin would likely be situated somewhere below deck and towards the stern, I had no idea how I was to navigate the maze of ladders and alleys beyond the doorway before me.

I think James took my faltering for weakness in that moment. "Perhaps you had better accompany her, lest her own feet trip her up."

I was glad it was Anamaria that he spoke to in that moment, and that she came upon my left side and took my arm to guide me below deck. If he'd asked Mai who might not have had the best understanding of the English language, I'd be entirely on my own but with Anamaria's sharp wit at least when my own exhausted and fever rotted brain failed to comply, there would be someone else present to ascertain all that was said and not said.

The light disappeared from above our heads as Anamaria led me through a doorway and into the relative darkness that only the bowels of a ship could offer. She went first, down another few steps that I'd have fallen down, not knowing they were there. We meandered down a wooden panelled corridor of fine cherry would that I was sure I'd never seen the like of upon any ship. Mick would have scoffed at refined details in an area of the ship that was only frequented much at all by him and myself. Thinking of Mick made me angry with myself, that after he'd died saving my life I'd been captured by a crew of Navy men no less and would surely hang for conspiring with pirates.

To rid my mind of such thoughts I turned my attention back to the woman beside me. "How is it you know where you're going?" I asked Anamaria as she took a right turn and stopped before a door.

"I've been on ships like this before, Captain's cabin is always in the same place," she mused as she gently reached for the door knob and turned it. The door swung open and we were bathed in a little more light from the long bow window at the end of the spacious cabin. I was slightly taken aback by the size of the rooms even though I'd ascertained the size of the great ship from above deck. Mick's own cabin aboard _The Grace_ had been around the same size as Sparrow's was aboard the Pearl, with room for a bed and a large desk that occupied most of the room. There had also been some shelving and storage but nothing on the scale of James's cabin. There was a bed of course, perhaps only a little bigger than Mick's had been and a desk below the window. There was also a long table where all of the officers might dine together but it was littered with compasses and telescopes. There was also a couch and some dainty chairs set around a small card table that looked like it had come straight from some fine house. All along the sideboards sat little brass and gold objects that no doubt found use as instruments for navigation and the like. There were also quite a few books piled in a corner and a drinks cabinet only discernible because one of it's doors was slightly ajar.

It might have been rather grand, but it all felt alien to me. Why did one man need this much space. Back in Ireland, families of seven or eight would live in little cottages half the size of that room. We stood just inside the doorway, gazing at the fancy touches of everything, bathed in a grey light from the window. "What's going to happen us, do you think?" I asked Anamaria quietly to try and ignore the jittery feeling in my legs that had me eying the couch and its soft cushions with longing.

Anamaria shrugged as she turned to look at me, and I swear that she could see right through me in that moment. "I know I'll go to the brig with Jack, but your fate may be different. The Commodore, does he know who you are?"

I knew what she meant, even if I pretended not to. "He knows I sailed with O'Malley if that's what you mean."

Anamaria raised her eyebrows. "That isn't what I meant."

"Then no," I supplied quickly, "He doesn't know who I am." I suppose we might call it woman's intuition that Anamaria was aware that there was a part of me well hidden, that might just save my neck in such a circumstance. At least, she considered that it might save me, but in my mind telling someone of a high rank within the Navy who I really was might make my death all that more painful. As a disgraced privateer's first mate who had resorted to piracy, I'd be swinging from a noose sooner rather than later but as the niece of Sir Malcolm Sidney I feared I'd suffer a much worse fate.

There were footsteps upon the stairs we had descended some moments before and then James approached his cabin from the dark hallway. We moved into the room a little to let him pass after he gently shut the door and he rounded his desk without even glancing at us. he removed his hat and placed it upon the cherry wood desk before him and glanced at the time piece there before he graced us with his attention. His eyes seemed to wander over my shoulder and neck, lingering just a second too long upon my necklace before his eyes met mine again. I couldn't see the bright colour so clearly in the muted daylight from the windows and it gave him a coarser presence, as if he was now at liberty to behave as he wished in the privacy of his own cabin. It wasn't a comforting thought. Anamaria might fair well enough to fight him off as he although tall was not too heavy set. Me on the other hand, one single gust of wind would have blown me away easily thanks to my shoulder.

"I do believe that is not the needlework of a surgeon," he announced abruptly with a subtle nod to my shoulder. "I do believe I recall telling you to seek one out."

It took me a moment to recover from the shock of such a conversation opening, so much so that with a quick glance to me, Anamaria spoke. "It is my needlework. A fair sight better than some drunk sailor who calls himself a surgeon."

"I believe I told you what the surgeons in Tortuga are like Commodore." I supplied quietly.

Anamaria nodded her agreement. "Better to bleed dry than trust one of them."

Her remark was met with only a quizzically raised brow. I felt his eyes upon my shoulder again and I had the overwhelming urge to place my sweating palm against it, blocking the line of his gaze. His hand fell to the back of the chair that sat behind the desk and I watched as he seemed to remember himself.

"You should sit," he said with a gesture towards the couch just behind us as he pulled out his desk chair.

I wanted nothing more than to take a seat somewhere. I was beginning to shiver all over and my limbs felt like lead. I could imagine how clammy and sickly my skin looked despite the fact that I was cold. I shook my head though. "I'll stand if it's all the same. Wouldn't want to spoil your fancy cushions Commodore." I think sometimes you can get the measure of a man quite quickly. I already had preconceived ideas about James before then, from the very first time we'd met in the midst of a ferocious storm, and from what Mick had told me about him. I'd thought of him as decent at least, with little tolerance nor nonsense or games. The look he threw me as I declined his hospitality again renewed the sentiments that he cared not at all for the state of his cushions or any other furnishings in the cabin for that matter. He was not so trivial a man. "...Don't stand upon ceremony though," I continued as I realised that he intended to fulfil his undoubtedly thorough education in gentlemanly behaviour and remain standing with us. "I'm no duchess or lady to be waited upon. I could care less whether you stand or sit or hang from the ceiling."

I don't know whether he sensed just what I was feeling in that moment, whether he could feel my loss and grief, and my complete confusion about what my life was going to be without Mick. I don't know if he saw in my eyes that I felt that I was nearing my end, that running with Sparrow had caused my death and that I was relieved and scared about that all at the same time. He must have known I was uneasy, that for him to remain standing would have perhaps intimidated me or turned me hysterical. Whatever it was he saw or felt, he decided that to sit behind his desk and address me was the best thing.

"Then miss...?" His intended words trailed away as he recalled that I had yet to give him a name. This time I knew by the stern expression and the brooding dark eyes that he was not going to continue until I had given him a name.

I opened my mouth and closed it again; a sudden and gripping sensation to blurt out my real name that I had not uttered in eight years overtook me so sharply that I had almost let it happen. I clenched my fists at my sides, tightening them around clumps of the worn terracotta skirt I wore. I do wonder what his reaction would have been if I had told him the truth there and then; told him I was running from an uncle who had ill intentions towards me and from everything in Ireland that posed to hold me back from a full and happy life. I don't think he'd have believed me but if he had, I think he'd have packed me off on a ship back to England and my uncle. The reality was that he did not know me as well as he would come to in the future. He might have thought I was some foolish headstrong chit with a desire for adventure. Maybe he would have even considered me so self-absorbed that I'd ran away in the first instance with the hopes of being rescued by some dashing suitor and that it had all got somehow out of hand. I don't think he will ever really tell me what he thought of me that day and that's what confirms my suspicions. I do not hold it against him though, for we were little more than strangers with a love for the sea.

"Fiona...O'Connell." My well used alias tumbled from my lips as it had done countless times before and I saw no flicker of mistrust or disdain in his eyes, only a mild sort of curiosity.

"Then miss O'Connell, would you be so good as to recount to me all that you can about the wrecking of the ship _The Grace_ which inadvertently led to your inflicted injury?"

"Again? I've told you what happened!" I cried.

"Miss O'Connell, whilst I appreciate that such a harrowing experience is painful to relive and recount, I would have you do so now whilst your memory of such events is still fresh in your mind. I would not ask, but you have inadvertently shed some new light upon the tale that is of great interest to me."

He fixed me with a gaze that although not intimidating was certainly firm. He was not going to let me argue with him. I'd have to speak of what happened again and in much finer detail before he even considered discussing anything else. He rested his elbows upon his desk and steepled his hands in front of his mouth as he watched me, waiting it seemed for some kind of epiphany. I relented a lot quicker than I wanted to because I was tired and sore, and if I argued I was now very sure he'd argue back.

I'd piqued his interest with mention of a company man so much so that I could tell he was anticipating that part of the tale readily. "The man," he queried after I had been allowed to speak again of what happened with no interruptions. "Would you recognize him if you were to set eyes upon him again?"

"Oh I'd remember that face," I said with both a little confidence and malice in my voice. I wasn't likely to ever forget the expression I'd seen upon the man's face as he killed those I considered family.

"Could you describe his appearance for me?" James asked as he lightly dipped a quill into an inkwell in readiness to note down anything of importance that I said. "Perhaps how you knew he was a company man?"

I realised rather quickly that part of his interest lay in how I'd known the man was not of a Naval education. "It was more the way he walked than anything," I supplied as the vision of the man creeping along the deck swam before my eyes. "He was not tripping over himself, don't get me wrong; but he was not entirely at home aboard a ship. He was a gentleman certainly by his posture and the way he held that pistol; signet ring engraved with the emblem of the East India Trading Company. Expensively cut red coat and a wig so powdered that if he sneezed or coughed I'd expect him to engulf himself in a white cloud."

Anamaria choked back a little giggle from slightly behind me and I remembered that she was there. I glanced down at my feet, not realising I'd stepped further into the room. My feet were inches from an expensive rug that was definitely not made for the likes of my shoes to walk upon.

"What of his face?" James asked without even glancing up from the sheaf of parchment were his quill elegantly scratched out my description.

"Pale, nothing really extra-ordinary about him. I'd guess he's the type to look down his nose at everyone, haughty...His eyes were cold, cold and devoid of anything at all. The kind of man that's never done a day's work in his life. Certainly his soft hands confirmed that."

His head jerked up to stare at me. "Soft...? How could you know that unless-"

"Unless he touched me," I finished for him. "He did. After he shot me... he approached me where I lay and pressed me down with one hand upon the middle of my chest here." I'd raised my hand and pressed it against my sternum, not realising how badly it was shaking as it rested above my necklace. "He pulled the musket ball out with his other hand...some sort of knife he used, I think."

"Animal!" Anamaria snarled from behind me but James paid her no heed. Those green eyes, so darkened by the dull light permeating the room were gazing at me so intensely it was as if he could see right through me. He was shocked, I could tell. He was also so very curious. I was curious too as to why a man so unacquainted with me would have treated me so, but I didn't think James would ever come to have such answers.

He stood from his chair then and walked out from behind his desk and turned away from us to gaze out of the windows at the rear of the cabin and the ship. with his hands clasped behind his back he seemed lost in his own thoughts for a few seconds and I felt myself weakening even further. I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor on top of his expensive rug and let sleep claim me. If I'd not been so ill I might have taken the time to admire his ridgid stature from behind, his handsome profile that would come to fascinate me in time. Perhaps there was some inkling within me that knew I'd get many more chances to do so over the course of time.

"This man," he called over his shoulder suddenly. "Was he as tall as I am?" There was such a tone of apprehension in his voice then that I could not have missed it even if I'd tried.

"No," I replied. "No, he was much closer to my height actually." James turned upon his heel to fix me with such a glare that I was left in no doubt that he knew the man I'd described from what little information I'd given. I spoke again without even thinking. "You know who shot me." It was not a question but a statement.

"Your description may be applied to many men within the company," James mumbled as he stepped back into the room.

"And yet you know who shot me," I repeated. I knew by his uncertain gaze and quizzical expression that his own revelation had shocked him somewhat.

"What puzzles me greatly miss O'Connell is why a member of the company would give the orders to wreck the ship of a well respected privateer and kill it's crew. It is nigh on impossible."

I let a rather harsh laugh escape my lips. "I'm not lying Commodore. I've not got much else to care about in the world so why would I lie?"

"No, you're not lying miss O'Connell," he accompanied with a stiff nod in my direction. "I believe you."

I was so struck by his readiness to trust what I'd said that I did not register that he had called for an officer who waited just outside the door of his cabin. I only came to my senses when he nodded towards Anamaria.

"The lady pirate is to re-join her friends in the brig, Lieutenant."

"What about me?" I blurted out suddenly. "Why am I not going too? I've nothing more to tell you!" I made a grab for Anamaria's arm, so newly attached to the pirate that I was not prepared to have her support wrenched from me when I was still so grief-stricken. I know now that I was scared of being alone amongst all those Navymen I didn't know. I was terrified of having to stand upon my own two feet without aid. I wanted to be shuffled into the brig in the bowels of the ship and thrown onto the waterloged floor. I wanted to curl up in a ball and forget my whole life.

"Miss O'Connell remains above deck," James supplied quietly to the Lieutenant who produced shackles from his belt and stiffly approached Anamaria. he was clearly expecting some kind of retaliation upon her part but she gave none as the iron manacles slipped around her bony wrists and she glanced up towards my tear-streaked face.

"Have you a death wish?" she chastised me as she grabbed one of my hands and shook it. "Would you argue yourself into the brig with us?"

She turned away from me and let the officer lead her away. I didn't understand where the ferocious and uninhibited Anamaria had gone, so much so that I began to feel a type of ferocious anger of my own. James was watching me with curious eyes as I turned back to him. "I want to go down to the brig with my friends. Why do we have to be kept apart?"

"Your friends, are they?" he asked with a raised brow as he gathered the parchment he had scratched out my description on only moments before and rolled it into a tight scroll. "What would Captain O'Malley say to that?"

"Well I'll never know will I?" I cried loudly. "All I know is that you can't treat us all differently. There's two other women down in that brig so if I'm staying up here then they should be too! The Chinese girl Mai, she's no pirate! She's from that inn in Tortuga and I tried to help her find a better life. She's only guilty of trusting the wrong person!"

"As are you Miss O'Connell," he countered. "You are not a pirate, and will not meet the same fate as your 'friends'. You are desperate for a home after your captain's death and I think I can attribute your misjudgement of sailing with Sparrow to grief. I'm afraid I cannot say the same for the young chinese girl. Besides, you have provided useful information."

I was shaking my head in disbelief. How did James even believe what he was saying. "Fraternisation with pirates carries a death sentence," I stated coldly. "If I'm no pirate, I certainly fraternised with them! If this about Mick; some stupid sense of loyalty because he saved your life? Well I can assure you that I'll be of no use to anyone, not now I've got holes in me and all!"

I prodded my shoulder in anger, wincing slightly as my finger made contact with the sewn together flesh. James sighed heavily in what I recognised as the first sign of real humanity I'd seen from him. He was always so regimental and aloof, barely human in most respects. "You are right miss O'connell in that your captain did save my life and that of seven of my men. Therefore even after his death I believe I still owe him a debt of gratitude. He was a good man well liked and respected upon the seas and he placed a great deal of trust in you. Therefore I am willing to believe that you yourself have goodness in you, unlike the rabble consigned to the brig of this ship. To confine you there would do the memory of your Captain a great disservice and you do yourself one by wishing yourself there. That wound of yours which has already resulted in a fever would only fester and worsen in the brig. You will make use of an officers cabin to aid your recovery whilst you remain aboard this ship."

"Remain aboard?" I queried. "What does that mean? I thought you'd want rid of us all."

He strode forward then until he stood upon the rug, only inches from me. "I may be a Naval man who has always found himself upon the right side of the law Miss O'Connell but that does not make me a fool. I know what Sparrow searches for. His quest is my quest. In respect of that I am afraid to say that at present the best place for Sparrow is as near to me as possible. Incarcerating him at the nearest port town to leave him to be rescued by some of his friends is not going to aid my own endeavours. If I keep Sparrow close I have at my disposal all of his own knowledge regarding the whereabouts of _The Crown of immortality_. You are no fool either Miss O'Connell. Yes, despite your small stature and your bawdy Irish outspokenness, there lies within you an intelligent woman. Captain O'Malley would not have given you employment if he did not believe so. I trust your late captain's judgement."

"He trusted Captain Jack Sparrow," I added as if to disprove his theory.

"Your Captain was a clever man who knew how to keep all sorts upon his side. His careful care of your own self leads me to believe you're a great deal more estimable than you ever did consider. If you were to agree to help my quest, there would certainly be-"

"NO!"

"There would be gold-"

"D'you think I give a rotten potato about gold?" I roared as I fished in the pocket of my skirt and produced the purse of coins that Sparrow had given me. "Do you? Sparrow owed us, Mick and me! He gave me passage as part payment. I couldn't care less about some stupid mythical crown or gold or anything! I've lost everything. Gold won't change that! Why is it all that matters to everyone? You're all out upon the sea searching for something that doesn't even exist when the real treasures are home and people you love and..." I lost my train of thought as Mick's face swam before my eyes and I had to force myself not to give in to the wracking sobs that I wanted to release in that moment. I stepped backwards from him as I tried to catch my breath, realising my outburst might just have earned me passage to the brig after all.

"Then if not gold, what did Sparrow offer you to aid him Miss O'Connell?" My head jerked up from observing the rug at our feet. "He will have offered you something I'm sure."

I shook my head at him as I felt tears rolled down my cheeks. "I can't help you as I couldn't help Sparrow. I've no idea where such a thing might be if it existed. I'd never heard of it before Sparrow mentioned it. I don't know why everyone's so obsessed with it. I only agreed to help Sparrow because he promised to help me find someone I could sail with."

"And whom might that be?" James asked.

I did debate not telling him, for he had gained a lot of information that day but the simple desire of being left alone made me want to tell him so that the interrogation would be over with. "Patrick O'Malley, Mick's brother. Jack told me he could find him for me."

"Patrick O'Malley..." James seemed to contemplate the name for a few seconds but he didn't disclose whether he knew it or not. "Well Miss O'Connell, aid me in whatever way you can to find the crown and you shall be released to go in search of this Patrick O'Malley."

"Don't you get it Commodore? I don't know..." My mind turned over just what James had said and hit a snag. "What do you mean released? You mean you're holding me prisoner, just not in the brig?"

"You will remain a guest aboard _The Surgence_ , free to roam the ship at your leisure until such a time as we locate the crown. Then you may disembark at whichever destination you please."

I could see in his eyes that he was pleased with such an offer, that he thought it an agreeable one. I suppose it was when I consider that he could have simply sent me to the gallows as a pirate or he could have left me in the brig to suffer the worser fate of an infected wound. That kind of death would be a long and agonising one. Back then, I was too hot headed and angry with the world to understand all of that though.

"That's a death sentence," I muttered. "I don't know were such a trinket might be and so I can be of no help to you. I'd be aboard this ship the rest of my life. It's hardly fair of you to dangle freedom before my eyes like that Commodore. You know, Mick thought a great deal of you, thought you were a decent man who might turn out to be a good one, one day. He thought you were the type that inevitably did the right thing in the end. He was wrong though wasn't he. You've been corrupted by the greed and desperation of the sea too. If not by name then you're certainly a pirate by nature."

I turned on my heel and tried to scurry from the room even as my knee gave protest. It had locked in a stiff position as it so often did when I stood in one situation for any real length of time. I tried my hardest not to limp until I reached the dark corridor and felt my way along the walls in the dark until I was able to clamber up the steps onto the deck again. The sea air assaulted my senses, reminding me why I'd left my home in the first place. No one paid me any heed as I ambled across the gangway to the railings and stared out at the churning waves created by the Navy ship towing _The Black Pearl_.

For a long time the dim grey sea was all I'd had to guide me. Now I was not permitted to guide myself any more it seemed. I might have a pocket full of gold, but I was possibly the most unhappy I had ever been in my life. I'd been of a low mood before, but back then I had not tasted real freedom. I did not know what it felt like to guide oneself. Now that I had experienced it, I was all the worse for it.

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona finds out a bit more about Mai, and a bit more about herself!**_


	7. Chapter Seven - Grief and Toil Part One

_**In which Fiona finds out a little more about Mai.**_

 _ *** I think I completely forgot to explain my reasons behind James's new ship. "The Surgence" came about after a few tries of different names (some of which were rubbish). Then I thought of "Resurgence" which means an increase or revival after an inactive period of time. Whilst I thought this might fit James's story in the long run, I thought it harked back too much to a gloomy disposition. Whilst he's still gloomy now, he's not always going to be that way. I felt that name would pull him down too much.**_

 _ **Then I realised I could use "Surgence." To surge literally means 'to rise'. I thought that fitted our Commodore's new path in life perfectly.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Seven - Grief and Toil part one**_

 _ **Thomas Moore - Sail on, sail on.**_

 _Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark -_  
 _Wherever blows the welcome wind,_  
 _It cannot lead to scenes more dark,_  
 _More sad, than those we leave behind._  
 _Each wave that passes seems to say,_  
 _Though death beneath our smile may be,_  
 _Less cold we are, less false than they,_  
 _Whose smiling wrecked thy hopes and thee._

 _Sail on, sail on - through endless space -_  
 _Through calm - through tempest - stop no more;_  
 _The stormiest sea's a resting-place_  
 _To him who leaves such hearts on shore._  
 _Or - if some desert land we meet,_  
 _Where never yet false-hearted men_  
 _Profaned a world that else were sweet -_  
 _Then rest thee, bark, but not till then._

* * *

Now I've come to perhaps the most difficult part of my story to explain. To try to put into words just how I felt in the coming days after our imprisonment aboard _The Surgence_ brings back odd and sometimes painful memories. You see, I was not of my right mind; not myself in any way. I was already struggling to contain my grief, to see a future for myself in the world or upon the sea before James decided to take my free will from me. He does not see it that way, and I suppose that I don't see it that way now either. I cannot deny though that back then there was some anger or hate within me that I wished to direct towards him. I could not find the strength to channel it though. Instead it sufficed to ignore his presence as best I could, and to glower at him when his back was turned.

On that first day, I thought it was the most desperate and desolate that I would ever feel in my life. The shackles that had no physical chains had reached out to ensnare me and I was stuck in limbo, waiting for some kind of sign that things might work out differently. There was no sign. There was no hope. Before darkness fell I felt the pull to retreat below decks again, not least because I was aboard a ship with a crew that I did not know. The evening hours of a calm sea brought about drinking and merriment, and I did not wish to be the source of anyone's entertainment. I did not think that James would stand for such behaviour even then, but in my mind he was only one man and I was not even half of a woman; with a wounded shoulder and a disturbed mind. I crept back along the deck from the quiet spot I had found, but I didn't go far before an officer approached me and asked me to accompany him to a cabin that I was to be permitted use of. I already knew I would have no such use for such a room, but with other Navy men all about us, some of them watching us with a modest interest I felt it best to follow where he lead. The darkness enveloped us again as I was led through a different doorway than before and down some steps. This time we turned, taking another flight of steps down onto the middle deck where yet again the officer's candle reflected against the fine cherry wood. we walked a long corridor lined on either side with closed doors.

"These cabins are reserved for the use of officers Miss O'Connell," announced Lieutenant Thompson as he stopped at the very end of the hallway and turned the stiff handle of a door to open it. "No one else should have cause to be in this part of the ship unless directly instructed by myself or another officer. If there arises any such issue with your cabin, you should report to myself regarding the matter. If you should like I can have someone fetch some food for you?"

The door creaked open and I could just diminish the layout of a very small but comfortable cabin that I had no intention of using even as I stood upon the threshold of my own privacy. "I'll be sure to do that Lieutenant, and no, my appetite has quite run away from me. There's no need to trouble yourself." I replied in the hopes that he would soon take his leave of me.

"Miss, Commodore Norrington has also asked me to convey certain stipulations regarding your stay aboard _The Surgence_. He asks...um...he requires that you have no fraternisation with any of the crew, and that you keep to yourself."

Had I been less tired, had I had more of my wits about me I might have thought to hold my tongue in such a situation but I suppose the Irish within me always drives me to speak even when I shouldn't. "So I'm to be sent to Coventry as well as being imprisoned. Your Commodore really knows how to make a 'guest' feel welcome."

"I have been assured by the Commodore himself that you are a guest, Miss." I turned back to the hesitant eyes of Lieutenant Thompson who could only have been a few years my senior and realised that although he was extremely polite, there was a nervousness about him that I thought perhaps had something to do with myself. At the time I immediately thought he must hate me because in essence I was guilty of piracy and had swerved incarceration in the brig just slightly. My place of birth couldn't have helped matters either. Whilst for the most part, upon the sea there would be no qualms or judgements of where you'd come from. I'd learnt that some Englishmen had rather a profound and baseless prejudice towards Irish people. Our wildness, our religious beliefs and perhaps just our general existence seemed to be a real sore point for some. For the most part though, for every one person so filled with hate that you meet, there are thousands of others who don't care where you've come from. I'd not experienced much discrimination towards the Irish in my life in any great deal except for a time or two when Mick had been refused entry to a port even though he was in the employ of the British crown. It's something you're brought up being told about though in Ireland. My mother would talk to me of brutality and violence done by English hands even when I was a small child and she often warned me to keep my distance from the English soldiers who were often camped or garrisoned not too far from our home.

I think that in itself is wrong. Prejudice only breeds prejudice. The Irish people have been so forewarned by their forebears that they themselves have built up a rather disdainful view of the English. There's hate on both sides and we are both at fault in ways. Lord knows us Irish like to drink and dance and sing and fight amongst ourselves and I never did envy the English soldiers who had the responsibility of keeping the peace in Ireland for often they were blamed for things they'd no part in. I wonder what my mother would have thought, to see me the prisoner aboard a ship full of Englishmen. She'd have been terrified for me. I don't think I was ever scared as such. If I'd been of sounder mind I might have been just a little apprehensive even as Lieutenant Thompson showed me the latch on the back of the cabin door that would ensure my own safety and privacy. I knew what kind of man James was, and I understood that at least I would suffer no ill treatment under his watch.

With no window in the cabin to let light in, it seemed quite a gloomy prospect to myself to be so shut up in the little room. If I'd been aboard that ship as a younger woman I'd have been too ashamed to walk back the way I'd come towards the upper decks but James had permitted me free reign of almost all of the ship. I intended to use it. Lieutenant Thompson placed the flickering candle down upon a thin shelf and retreated to the doorway again. "Miss please do remember what I said. Any issues regarding your accommodation should be reported to myself or another officer, do not trouble the crew-members with such things. Should you have need of any other...ah...amenities please also address myself or another officer. I regret that at present we do not have a surgeon aboard due to unmitigated circumstances but the Commodore asks that regardless of this you report any worsening illness to myself directly."

I nodded although in my mind I silently agreed with myself that I would not ask a single one of them for anything at all. I was determined not to rely upon anyone but myself. "I'll bear all that in mind Lieutenant Thompson."

I sensed him moving to close the door but he seemed to have second thoughts and glanced back towards me again. "Miss I feel I should address some of your concerns before they enter your head. All of this instruction is not to in any way hinder or isolate you, but rather to ensure your safety. There are men aboard this ship who feel that they are indebted to yourself and your late Captain. We would do Captain O'Malley and yourself a great disservice if we left you to your own devices amongst a large crew of sailors. We cannot account for every man at any one time and whilst I do not wish to think discouragingly of this crew, it is safer to always remain upon guard. For your own assured safety the Commodore asks that you report to myself or another officer and that you keep primarily to this deck and those above it unless otherwise requested. To go against this instruction would only make your stay aboard harder upon yourself." I could feel his eyes upon the side of my face as I resolutely refused to turn back towards him. I didn't really think much of his explanation at the time, but now of course I know that Lieutenant Thompson was one of the seven lives that Mick saved during the hurricane. My mind was simply too full to take the trouble of recognising him in that moment. "If you will report to myself directly upon the morrow Miss O'Connell I will see to it that you have a change of apparel if required and of course some food."

He closed the door very softly and I listened to his booted feet carry him down the hallway and begin to ascend the steps again. I knew I should wait for a moment or two, so I took in the small cabin that left little room to move around in at all. The bed was made, with white linen sheets and a thick woollen blanket folded expertly and what looked like quite a plump pillow. I dared to lower myself down to sit upon it, my neck and shoulder protesting as I moved. It was by no means a luxurious kind of comfort, but it was still very tempting to lie back and let sleep claim me there and then. I could have so easily forgotten the promise I'd made to myself not to sleep in the cabin. I could have given in there and then, but I think if I had, I'd gave given up on a lot more. As it was, I knew I could not sleep within the cabin. If I wanted to make my point, I would have to seek out my new pirate friends in the brig and share their company. If I did not, the pirates might grow to resent me and I knew I needed them onside. It would also have encouraged James to think I willingly accepted his hospitality and was easily manipulated. Whilst I'd no way of helping him find a fictional crown, any act of my own that indicated weakness might lead him to think he could use me in some way to force the information from others.

I waited as long as I thought was needed to ensure Lieutenant Thompson had retreated to the upper decks before I slipped out of the cabin door with the candle held aloft in my hand and wound my way down one flight of steps onto the lower deck. It had been almost silent in the officer's quarters but here I was beginning to discern the chatter and din of what was probably the crew's mess. I hadn't gone more than a few feet before a crew member rushed past me, sparing me a curious stare as he hurried towards the upper decks. Sure in my mind that I needed to go even lower to seek out my pirate friends I followed the steps down another level, trying to avoid catching the eyes of Navy men headed in the other direction. The darkness was intensified down in the hold. I could barely see my feet as they tread along the boards and tried to dodge barrels of supplies and the odd puddle of water that might cause me to slip. I was sure Mick had told me once that there was often a punishment for those who carried lit candles in dangerous areas of the ship because there was so much risk of fire. I knew that would certainly be the case aboard _The Surgence_ which was a Navy ship likely full of weaponry and gunpowder.

I passed a few midshipmen who turned to watch me wearily, and I'm sure I heard their mutterings behind my back as I walked on past them. Sure enough, I passed through a room that must have been the magazine. It was divided into two separate compartments, the shell room and the powder room for the separation of shell and propellant. I'd never seen anything like it before having only sailed on much smaller ships, but clearly James considered his voyage a potentially treacherous one owing to the amount of gunpowder stored there.

I gasped as a man brushed past me in the narrow walkway. "Watch that candle Miss," he hissed as I almost jumped backwards in alarm. In the darkness I had not seen him coming and firmly planted my feet upon the floor to right my balance. I knew he was right though,I shouldn't have been standing so close to gunpowder with a naked flame. Now of course I know that James had forbidden anyone the use of a candle in the ship's magazine but I wasn't to know. I don't think anyone had considered that I might descend so far into the bowels of the ship. I don't know why they did not think on it as my first thought once left alone had been to try and locate my pirate friends.

Ignoring the sense of eyes upon my back I hurried onward into the main hold of the ship were there were lanterns lit to guide my way into the brig. Clearly, James had anticipated the potential arrest of many pirates and wrongdoers for there were two large wrought iron cages either side of the gangway. Housed in one was the crew of _The Black Pearl_. Their muttering and bickering stopped as I drew closer and they all caught sight of me.

"Here to rescue us are ya love?" Sparrow quipped from where he leaned against the iron that housed them all. If he was annoyed, he didn't show it. "Convinced the Commodore to let us on our merry way yet?"

I shook my head meekly as I brought my eyes up to meet his. He might still seem to be drunk, but I could sense an edginess to him, as if his stupor was wearing off. He'd been shut up in the brig all day with not so much as a thimble of rum to his name and that had to be grating upon his nerves. Mick had told me that Sparrow did his best thinking whilst drunk.

"Where's the whelp when you need him eh?" he sighed as he broke eye contact.

"Sorry?" I asked.

"That be Mr Turner he speaks of Miss," supplied Gibbs from where he sat on the floor. "Lad could break us out of here no doubt."

"Well I'm sorry I'm not this Mr Turner," I mumbled. "I thought I should tell you that there might still be time to think of something though." I gazed at the side of Sparrow's face, willing him to turn his gaze upon me again as I wasn't sure he'd want me to disclose what he sought to his whole crew but he left me no choice. "Jack, the Commodore looks for the crown too! The very same you seek. He told me so himself. He asks for my help. I have refused it but he thinks I may be able to wheedle information out of you lot. He's taking us all with him to wherever it is that he's going. Perhaps he thinks I will relent to save myself."

"Why don't you tell him what you know then love?" simpered Sparrow as he finally glanced my way again. "Might do us all a favour."

I shook my head vehemently. "How many times Jack, I don't know anything! It's your secrets he's after! you're the one with all the answers! You're Jack Sparrow!"

"Oh I don't know where that crown is darlin'."

He was grinning at me then, a sickening sort of expression that left me in no doubt that he was laughing at me in some way. "But you must know! Otherwise why look for it in the first place?"

"S'why I asked you darlin," he replied with a flourish of his wrist.

"So you're telling me all of you are... and him above... are out upon the sea in active search of something that might not even be real? You're all mad!"

"Men," Anamaria muttered darkly as she rolled her eyes.

"You should know a thing to too about madness, what with you being Irish! I'm a pirate love, It's what I do."

"Not for much longer!" I cried. "It's got you all killed!"

"Not you though," supplied Anamaria. "You're not a pirate!"

I shrugged helplessly. "I'm as good as! You're the only friends I have besides Patrick O'Malley! If I can't find Patrick, then I've nothing! I'd rather be amongst those I know so I guess if I wasn't to find Patrick I'd be staying with you all."

"Not your...fate..." said new voice. Mai had been quiet throughout, and even as she spoke I couldn't see her. I searched over the heads of Sparrow's crew as they began to part themselves down the middle until I could glimpse Mai, leaning back against the wooden side of the ship. She hadn't even looked at me as she spoke. She still stared at the floor.

Still wary of her after what I'd seen earlier that morning aboard _The Pearl_ , I was hesitant to even speak to her, let alone try to decipher what she meant. I sucked in a few breaths as I watched her pluck at a thread of her sleeve and tried to figure out a way to let her know that I had seen what she did without telling anyone else. Something told me that Sparrow's crew wouldn't take lightly to finding out that they had a traitor in their midst.

Anamaria was gazing at me intently, as if coaxing me to ask the burning questions that I so wanted an answer to in that moment. I took another deep breath and asked. "Why would you say something like that Mai? Come here to me and tell me what you mean by that."

I don't know how it was possible for her to walk towards me without looking at me, but she did. Only when she had stopped right on the other side of the iron cage and was within touching distance of me did she finally glance up, a sheer sort of determination in her eyes. "Your future...not that. I see it."

There was no doubt in my mind that she believed what she was saying. There was a certainty in her eyes that I couldn't deny. Whether it were true or not, Mai believed that she knew what was to be my life.

"If it's future you see Miss, you'll be telling us how we eventually manage to get out of this darned cage so that we might get to it a little more hastily if you don't mind," called Gibbs from from the floor.

Mai appeared to want to roll her eyes then. Without even glancing at Gibbs or anyone else but myself she quickly replied. "Out of one cage and into another. No way out until then. escape...you will not do that yourselves."

The rest of Sparrows crew sighed dejectedly, some of them wearing puzzled expressions as they tried to understand what Mai had said. Sparrow simply chuckled.

"You forgetting who I am love? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

I snorted. I couldn't help myself. "Yes, that's why you've all been stuck here for hours and will likely stay shut up here until Commodore Norrington sees fit to dispose of you; all because you're Captain Jack Sparrow."

Sparrow turned his back on me then and slid down to sit on the floor beside Gibbs. Anamaria followed soon after, as did the others. I eventually did the same on the other side of the iron and we contemplated just what lay ahead of us in silence for quite some time. at length a gentle chatter broke out as some the crew tried to boost each other's spirits, evidently thinking a lot more of Sparrow than I did in those moments. They thought he would think of something.

I watched the end of the gangway the way I had come, occasionally seeing the flash of red or blue of a uniform as the Navy men went about their work or leisure in the adjoining rooms. Vaguely I wondered whether I would face some sort of punishment for retreating below decks to find the solace of the pirates. Would James have locked me away in the brig once he found out? I doubted it, strangely. That would in purpose defeat the object of punishment. I wanted to be in the brig rather than in the borrowed cosy cabin of a Naval officer. No, I hazarded a guess that I'd likely be locked in that cosy cabin as a sort of punishment. It wouldn't be for long, as I knew James was keen to restore my health and that would require the occasional outing for fresh air.

"You and the Commodore are familiar with one another?" Sparrow whispered to me then. I must admit I'd never head him whisper before that, and I don't think I have since. "Poor man's been unlucky in love, although I was rooting for him. Needs a little excitement of the female form to mellow him out does old Norrington-"

"Whatever it is you're about to ask me to do Jack, it's a no!" I snapped. "Mick saved his life a while ago, dropped him and his men to port. That's why I'm on the other side of these iron bars. He thinks he's repaying the debt."

"There are worse debts to have I suppose," Sparrow mused. "Captain O'Malley wasn't the type of man to twist such things as others do upon the sea. He kept to the code. You 'ave too love but this isn't about debts and rescues and codes any more. If he trusts you, you'll fare well. So will your friends."

"He doesn't need to trust me. I've nothing to offer him that would warrant trust," I replied hotly.

"You keep telling yourself that love," Sparrow whispered as he pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes; signalling an end to our conversation.

Was it a good idea to sleep in such a way? A clue; no. I dozed a little where I sat in the brig, finally waking again a few hours later when all of the crew were asleep, or at least I thought they were. Mai was watching me intently as I opened my eyes and wearily looked around me. My whole side was so stiff that I could barely move it. Oddly, my shoulder was so numb that I could not feel the pain of it. I knew if I attempted to move the pain would return though. I quickly glanced around at everyone again, making sure they really were asleep before I turned back to Mai.

Swiftly I let my whisper carry to her through the iron barrier. "I know what you did. I saw... The wind buffeting The Pearl like that; that was all you. I know what I saw."

Mai 's face was expressionless. "I had to," she shrugged.

"Had to?" I whispered hotly. "You've been the death of all of them and you've sentenced me to life aboard this ship! Why did you have to?"

"Your future."

"My...My future? So you can see the future and you can control the wind? Who are you Mai? Who taught you to do all of that?"

It's a curious thing in that I already knew the answer even if it wasn't in the forefront of my mind. There was only one who could teach those kinds of things, who could exploit and twist those kinds of qualities. I realised just who with a simple turn of Mai's head. The movement was so familiar to me that with a stifled yelp I sat up and shuffled myself away from the iron cage as fast as I could so that I leaned against the bars on the other side of the brig. I closed my eyes as the sudden movement caused dizziness and pain seared across my shoulder. I sucked in deep breaths, trying to remain in a sitting position and concentrated on the gentle rocking of the ship to and fro. When I eventually opened my eyes again, she was still staring at me.

"She taught me." Mai said matter-of-factly. "Tia Dalma."

"I want nothing to do with that witch!" I blurted out, already aware of the kind of trouble she brought. It had been Patrick O'Malley's idea to go to her. Once he had seen for himself what I could do with maps and charts he thought I must be some kind of scryer or seer. I don't know how he worked that out. He persuaded Mick to take me to her, and I'd never been more scared of anyone in my life until that man came aboard The Grace and shot us all. She even made me long for the company of my uncle, which is very odd indeed. At least with my lecherous uncle I knew what to expect; how to try and handle the situation. Tia Dalma was unpredictable and that was what made her so dangerous. Her touch upon my skin burned as if my own flesh was warning me to keep my distance from her and when she spoke to weave her spells I kicked and hit at every part of her I could reach to get her to stop. It was as if I knew that she wanted to use me, change me to her puppet. Mick wouldn't let her carry on after that. He took me and we left, and he argued with Patrick for two days straight about his foolish notion of taking me to that woman.

I'm still surprised she let Mick take me away. I knew she wanted me for some reason, and Mick simply grabbed my arms and marched me from her shack. He threw a few curses at her over his shoulder as we left, but she did not challenge him. All she had to say to him was "You are de rock. I cannot break you." Neither of us knew what that meant. Patrick didn't either but that didn't really matter. He left us not long after and I found out a while later that Mick had ordered him to go. The two brothers were at loggerheads because of me.

Mai nodded in an understanding way. "You...not have to. My magic...not hers."

"She tell you that did she?" I asked incredulously.

"I know," Mai whispered confidently. "I feel it. I feel...as I see your future."

"This future of mine then," I asked as curiosity got the better of me. "What's it entail then?"

"I show." Mai held out her hand between the iron bars and I made no move to approach her. We stayed like that for I don't know how long. I began to realise she wasn't going to take no for an answer. Perhaps I could let her show me without reading too much into it. I could let her just this once, and then never again. Eventually I began to crawl forwards until I resumed my previous spot and looked at her again. "Some...see only...possibilities...I see truth."

I understood her to mean that what she was to show me was not the trick of some back street tarot or tea leave reader who would tell you tall tales about what 'might' happen in your life. She believed she was showing me something that was really going to happen at some point. I nodded even as I had second thoughts but my hand was already reaching out; my palm resting on her palm ever so lightly. Mai closed her eyes and a strained expression crossed her mind. My eyelids suddenly snapped shut as if forced closed but I did not see the red murky darkness of the underside of my lids.

I held a sword in my hand, a sword that weighed a lot more than I was used to, but I could just about swing it. I didn't swing it, I just knew that I could. The golden burnished metal of the hilt shone in the sunlight raining down upon it and it was almost as if it had a heartbeat, a pulse that was trying to steady itself to match my own. Then something changed. A hand appeared, a strong hand, with callouses upon the palm that I felt as it brushed against mine. The hand repeated the action twice more before it gently covered my much smaller hand. It was not a forceful grip but it was a firm one. I did not shirk from it, finding that I was comforted by the touch. The hand helped me hold the almost dead weight of the sword, but it began to feel so incredibly light that I almost didn't need the aid. The pulse was no longer trying to match mine, but spiraling out of control and there was a heat there that was warmer than the surface of the sun but it did not burn me. It felt like home. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I knew the hand and the sword were home. I'd not had a real home for some time, so it was a very overwhelming feeling. Then the hand slipped away from mine and I missed it so. The pulse slowed and the heat subsided so it was just a gentle hum; still strange and powerful but less consuming.

"Don't be afraid to use it." It was a man's voice that spoke so suddenly, whispered in my ear even though there was no one at my side. I felt I knew the voice but there was such a rich new quality to it that I could not discern it. It gave me such a queer feeling that it sent me right back into the brig. My eyes flew open and I snatched my hand back from Mai's.

"Who is the man?" I hurridly asked her as she too opened her eyes.

"I cannot tell. You must...decide yourself." I shook my head in disbelief even as she turned away from me. "it matter later...think of sword now."

* * *

 ** _So who was the man? Will Mai have more secrets to reveal and who else might be able to see through Fiona? Find out in the next chapter!_**


	8. Chapter Eight - Grief and Toil Part Two

_**Just a note of thanks to the guest who reviewed this chapter when if was first put up, completely put the wrong character name in, should have been Groves instead of Gillette! My bad! So if you've already read it, no need to re-read!**_

 _ **Thanks to Icar372 and the guest for the reviews! I hope you enjoy this one! I feel like this chapter is where some allegiances are drawn in the sand. Fiona gains an ally who isn't in the brig.**_

 ** _Enjoy, and please review if you can, would be great to hear your thoughts!_**

 _ **Chapter Eight - Grief and Toil Part Two**_

Whilst most days the pain in my knee is a bearable pain that I could almost forget about, sometimes it takes habit of deciding not to comply with the movements I want to make. As much as I wanted to get up from the odd sitting position I'd fallen asleep in the next morning and put some distance between myself and Mai by taking a walk in the fresher air of the upper decks, my knee just would not comply. After some time of trying and failing to drag my leg into a bent position to stand, I gave up and slumped back against the iron barrier that separated me from the crew of _The Black Pearl_. I wasn't too disheartened by the thought of remaining in the brig because in a way I knew that I was in effect proving a point I'd made the day before.

No one paid me much heed excepting Mai and Anamaria, the latter pulling back the collar of my shirt every so often to scrutinise my wound. Each time she did so, she would glance back up towards my face and nod as if to say she had found my wound how it should be. The sounds of _The Surgence_ crew already well underway with their daily tasks was something that was not of any interest to any of us in the brig, as we all knew how a sailor's day might pass. My candle had burnt right down to the wick's end in my sleep and we only had the light of the lanterns to guide us, but I could still see a trace of hope in the eyes of Sparrow's crew. They still believed their Captain would worm his way out of another tight spot. I'd heard the stories about Sparrow so in truth I cannot say I blame them for having such beliefs. I just couldn't join them in their positivity.

I spent the morning hours trying to bend and unbend my knee ever so slowly when no one was watching to try and forgo some of the stiffness that had developed overnight. It was painful at first, dulling to its usual kind of ache as my movements began to quicken as ease set in again. Faced with the reality that I really could wander up towards the upper decks then, I decided I really didn't want to go. I'd been told to seek out Lieutenant Thompson if I required nourishment but I was sure I could search all over the ship before I found him, and if I were not allowed to speak with anyone who was not an officer to ask where I might find him I knew I'd have a long search on my hands. I also did not want to be in close proximity to James, who at that time had unbeknownst to him created a new sort of ire and determination within me to hate the Naval Commodore. He'd taken my fate into his hands and twisted it so forcefully that now I could see no way out of my predicament unless this magical crown wandered into my dreams one night and showed me where I might find itself.

Despite Mai's claims she could see what lay ahead for me, I was hesitant to believe a word she had to say. Now us Irish like an old faerie tale or ghost story as much as anyone, but I'd say we're more likely to rush off home afterwards to batten down the hatches in fear. We're a superstitious bunch at the best of times and I could not deny what I'd seen myself the evening before. Mai and I had some kind of connection, that I was sure of. Her link with Tia Dalma though made me wary.

A bell sounded somewhere above our heads, the sound muffled all the more by the decks that separated us from the open air. I should really have counted them the evening before, for now as I sat with the potential of removing myself from my current surroundings; I had no idea how far I'd have to trek to reach fresh air. My guess was that there were perhaps five or six decks between myself and the main deck but if my suspicions were right, that bell had sounded from the galley to signal the serving of the midday meal. Now I did not grow hopeful because of food, for I had no appetite at all and hadn't since Mick had passed but it entered my head then that much of the crew would be making their way towards the galley now and in a few moments there would be less traffic upon the staircases. There would be even less of a number up on deck. With that thought I pulled myself to my feet with a tired groan and began to hobble back the way I had come the evening before. I called back my assurances that I only went in search of some food for my friends in the brig and to feel some fresh air around my face and kept walking.

I was right in that there seemed to be less noise at that hour of the day, when most of the crew were at luncheon and only the necessaries remained at their posts. None of them so much as glanced in my direction as I painstakingly climbed six staircases, helping me to believe that the Commodore had in fact instructed his crew to act as if I were not even there. I had thought I'd find the feeling freeing and peaceful but I did not know how I would fare after days on end of that kind of treatment. The main deck too was almost deserted save for the Quartermaster who was serving watch at the ship's wheel and high up in the crow's nest I could just make out the blue frock coat of a midshipman. There was another midshipman upon the main deck who seemed to be leisurely checking the tightness of rope knots as he awaited his own allotted time for luncheon after the other men had returned to their posts. There was a carpenter making some sort of repair just to the left of me, evidently making use of the lack of bodies above deck to complete his work.

None of them paid me any heed as I ambled past the rowing boats that were stacked parallel upon the main deck, my breathing heavy and laboured after such a climb. I took up a position upon the forecastle deck as I watched the whitewater swirling around the bow of the ship. I did not bother to sit as I judged I did not have long before the crew finished their meal and returned to their posts. All I had wanted was a few moments of fresh air but now that I had it, the thought of returning to the stifling brig turned my stomach a little and I began a war with myself as to what I should do.

* * *

"Am I right in thinking that Mr Hawkins has yet to direct us upon any course Sir?" Lieutenant Thompson asked as the serving boy placed a plate of cut meats upon James' desk and scurried back out of the cabin.

"No. No he has not," James replied dryly. "I think it is of no matter Thompson. I think I am not alone when I say that ever since we set sail I have been of the belief that Mr Hawkins will be of little or no help to us at all. I do think he's rather here for what he can gain for himself."

"Then Sir I may be bold in asking but how are we to proceed?" Thompson sat at James' invitation and helped himself to a slice of cooked ham.

"Perhaps our little Irish guest has had an epiphany," James mused lightly. "I trust she adhered to all instruction?"

Thompson swallowed thickly before answering. "In truth sir, Miss O'Connell appears to have spent the night in the brig with the pirates."

"The brig?" James asked in a bored tone of voice that I'm sure told Lieutenant Thompson that his Commodore was not surprised at this piece of news.

"Yes Sir. I did endeavour to explain the importance of her remaining upon the upper decks but you did say yourself Commodore that you gave her permission to go where she liked whilst aboard."

James nodded. "I did, although I did not think her overly curious when I said those words. Perhaps she felt uncomfortable alone in the cabin that was provided. I do believe that it was the lady pirate who took care of Miss O'Connell's injury. Perhaps she wished to be nearer to her friend."

"Such a wound cannot fare well down in the brig Sir."

"No," James mumbled. "No it cannot. I do not see how we may placate Miss O'Connell in a way however; to ensure she provides the aid we so need. To force her to stay above deck will only harden her against our cause I believe. By now she will have no doubt told Sparrow that I too am searching for The Crown of Immortality and his mind will be in overdrive as he contemplates how to best use his knowledge to secure his freedom; a freedom I will not grant under any circumstances."

"You think that Sparrow may himself give up the information Sir?"

James resisted the temptation to snort. "Thompson I no more believe that than I believe that Mr Daly the Cook may cast the sky asunder with his bare hands. No, Sparrow will only do what benefits himself. He will never tell myself a single truth regarding the crown. He will attempt to manipulate and coerce us all, including Miss O'Connell. We simply must have hope that he will trip up somehow, and that Cutler Beckett does not get to the crown first."

* * *

"Not the safest spot to stand I'll grant you, what with your shoulder having a hole in it. If you were to topple over the side and miraculously catch hold of the ropes there, you still wouldn't have the strength to haul yourself back over the side."

The voice behind me was not an authoritative one, but it made me jump all the same. I had not been expecting anyone to speak to me at all, but as I turned I realised the man who had spoken wore no uniform. He seemed to sense my hesitation as I looked him up and down.

"Daniel Hawkins." He introduced himself as he struck out a hand for me to shake and I eyed him wearily even as I approached him and shook it. The hand was clean even though the calloused and hard skin of a worker brushed against my own. "I'm the Commodore's guide of sorts."

I'd already guessed he wasn't part of the Naval crew. The way his fair hair had been rather hastily pulled pack and tied at the nape of his neck in a scruffy manner and his clothing in differing shades of brown had told me so. The shirt he wore was only tucked into his breeches on one side and lay open at his neck, presenting the beginnings of his chest hair to the world. To me it seemed as if he wanted to give the appearance that he had dressed in a hurry. The sky was overcast and no sunlight reflected off the earring dangling from one ear but I noticed it all the same. In appearance he resembled Patrick O'Malley a little I thought, but his accent marked him as London-born with only a few spoken words.

Patrick O'Malley was a rake and a pirate, and I will admit to thinking the same of Mr. Hawkins even then. At the time though, I was in a rather precarious position with few friends to call my own. My anger and resentment towards James somehow created within me some incentive to befriend Mr. Hawkins who was not an official member of his crew, and Mr. Hawkins was smiling at me in a way that I was sure meant he thought me some rare gem the like of which he'd not seen before.

"The Commodore needs a guide now does he?" I asked as I leaned against the wooden railings and turned my face towards him with a pleasant smile. "There I thought he'd a good education and all of the training that His Majesty's Navy could provide, but let him loose upon the open sea and he can't find his way at all! What a 'nawful waste of an education eh?"

I wasn't sure he understood my humour or perhaps even my accent, but he smiled gracefully all the same. "I'm here because I know the islands and caves that do not lie along the Naval sailing routes; all of the back alleys in the port towns that Commodore Norrington should have no cause to venture towards. Our benefactor believed that it might be useful if I were on hand to offer up any advice the Commodore might need."

"Benefactor?" I queried. It was the first time I'd really considered James' quest with any real interest. Just how dedicated to such a cause could he be if it were not indeed his quest after all? I understood that the motivation of most pirates and privateers was to line their own pockets with gold and that they could be readily bought; but the real honest and determined men were not entirely susceptible to such charms. Take Mick for example, who knew better than most how to play a scheme and line his pockets well whilst still remaining on the right side of the law. Mick was a good and decent man despite his tricks and he would never have chosen gold over his own dignity and selfless reputation. He would not have put his crew in such a position either. I'd thought James was the same deep down, but Mr. Hawkins offered to me that day a new way of thinking about James. It was clear to me then that I did not know the measure of such a man. Capturing Jack Sparrow was something he'd been trying to do for years and it was an endeavour entirely within his nature. In effect he had always been a lawman of the sea, so hating of pirates and scallywags who broke the laws defined by the King that he was committed to hunting them all down one by one if need be.

That's why this new version of James did not sit well with me. Taking gold to find some lost or imaginary trinket was not how he operated. It should not have been something that he had ever considered. That meant there had to be far more to it than I or Mr. Hawkins knew. Something within James had snapped, perhaps never to be repaired again. It was a frightening prospect, that the one so charged with ridding the seas of pirates was gently toeing the rope that might help him to one day become one.

"The Commodore didn't tell you about that then?" asked as he approached me slowly. My interest in his conversation and need for more information forced me to remain relaxed and unperturbed by his presence in order to gain his confidence. "We were enlisted to work together to find that crown, and return it to England. I know he has spoken to you of it. If I'm honest and meaning no disrespect to you of course Miss; I don't quite understand why it was that he asked for your assistance in such matters."

He was leaning against the railings eventually, his arm just brushing mine as we gazed out at the horizon. I exaggerated a groan. "I was hoping you might have had the answer to that for me Mr. Hawkins, for I do not know either. I'm just an Irish sailor's waif that he picked up off the coast of Ireland and taught to sail. Of everyone aboard this ship I know the least about this crown. If I'm honest I cannot understand why everyone is so eager to find it, even Jack Sparrow."

Mr. Hawkins shook his head in apparent disbelief, but he was still smiling. "You're Irish so don't tell me you aren't superstitious. The mad Irish have always been a little more in touch with that which we cannot see or discern in the normal forms of human nature. I'm sure you've seen some sights that have scarred you for life."

He was right in what he said of course. Wasn't I still haunted by the image of my late Captain's death? "I'm scarred it's true," I replied carefully. "My scars although more mental than physical were inflicted by the hands of men though. Their desires and greed have been far more harsh upon my eyes than any sight I've met at sea." I turned towards him then, aware that his eyes were trailing over every inch of my face already. "No, anything I've seen here out upon the open water has been a wonder to me. I've yet to met with anything that has not facinated me entirely."

Mr. Hawkins let out a bark of laughter then. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your name Miss, since you have neglected to permit me to know it?"

I didn't see what harm there was in telling him my name when James would surely tell him eventually. I also thought I might be able to keep a man like Mr. Hawkins upon my side of things. "Fiona O'Connell; but you don't have to call me Miss all the time. I'm no lady. Fiona is fine."

"Fiona O'Connell," Mr. Hawkins sighed as he let his hazel eyes meet mine. "What a wonder you must have been back in Ireland, with that shock of red hair and these otherworldly views. Indeed I cannot imagine how you got on?"

It was my turn to force a laugh I thought, and so I did. "Fiona O'Connells are two-a-penny back in Ireland Mr. Hawkins. If you'd ever visited, you'd know that. You're likely to meet more than one woman of that name walking down the main road of any town. I'm really nothing special. As for my hair, I'm sure you'll know there's only a lucky few from home who get the chance to live their lives without the inconspicuousness of red hair. It's rather a burden but its not something I can change readily."

"Why would you want to change it?" he asked very quickly. For the first time during our conversation I felt that he'd spoken with a simple honesty and wasn't holding something back. "I think it rather becomes you. You sailed with Captain O'Malley for a long time, and you're still standing. A woman upon these seas must have more determination than every man in her crew put together. It takes a fierceness that is not taught. We'll both be aware of what can happen to a young woman out here, even if she is well protected. I believe the colour of your hair tells everyone just what kind of young woman you are Miss O'Connell; a tenacious one."

"Is that why you're talking to me Mr. Hawkins; and disregarding the requests of the Commodore?" He leaned in so close to me that I struggled against the urge to take a few steps backwards. His eyes flickered over my face and up into my hair before his gaze wandered towards my chest and the pendant that rested there. He was standing so close that from his vantage point I was sure he could stare right into the hollow between my breasts. I couldn't help the movement I made with my arm, placing it over my chest so that my shirt flattened against my skin to obscure his view.

"Perhaps it is that," he whispered as his breath brushed against my ear. "Then again, perhaps there is much more to you Miss Fiona O'Connell. You're a smart one, and its not often anyone finds your like upon the seas. Maybe its your deeper secrets I want to unravel."

I stumbled backwards then, pushing him roughly on his arm to put some distance between us both. I must have been staring at him incredulously, wondering if he had figured out just who I was already. I Couldn't fathom how, when hardly anyone in England besides my uncle would know what I looked like or where I might have gone. There was no way for someone like Mr. Hawkins to think I was anything other than what I presented. Despite all of that I still felt fear grip my heart as I realised my reaction would certainly not have helped matters.

"Mr. Hawkins," came a new voice, "I was not aware you were given permission to remove yourself from your position of duty?"

I could not see the speaker as Mr. Hawkins still stood in my way, but I thought I recognised it. Sure enough, as footsteps drew closer, Lieutenant Groves appeared. Mr. Hawkins stepped back from me a little, turning to meet the officer who appeared to be regarding him with disdain. "Looking at charts all morning can tire a man out," Mr. Hawkins replied in what he evidently thought was a civilised manner. "Everyone has the right to a break now and again Lieutenant."

"Be that as it may Mr. Hawkins, you did not seek permission from myself or another officer to venture where you pleased . I also believe you were instructed not to approach our guest."

Clearly, I was the guest. Part of me wanted to reply in some fashion then; if only in defence of my own situation. It was to be a lonely life aboard such a ship if no one was permitted to speak to me. It was Lieutenant Groves who made me think better of speaking though. He and I were not so much stranger to one another. He was one of the men that Mick had saved all those months ago but unlike the Commodore, the Lieutenant had taken the time to speak with me during T _he Grace's_ return to port. I'd liked the man, and so I stayed silent.

Mr. Hawkins tipped an imaginary hat to me and turned on his heel. "Back to the charts it is then," he called to Lieutenant Groves as he passed. I watched him saunter away, prowling the deck as if he believed himself to be God's gift and I had to stifle a giggle. Mr. Hawkins was most definitely a rake and not someone I should associate with, but I couldn't help thinking that his sense of humour might be rather sought after in the coming days and weeks if my situation did not improve.

"Miss," Lieutenant Groves finally acknowledged me with a curt nod. I smiled slightly at him but remained silent, somehow sure that he wished to say more. "I'm afraid Miss I must advise you to steer well clear of Mr. Hawkins when possible. He is rather uncouth in his mannerisms and his attitudes. I only wish to ensure that your stay aboard remains as hospitable as possible."

I raised a brow. "I understand what you're saying Lieutenant but Mr. Hawkins does seem hospitable in a way. What harm can he do speaking to me here up on deck?"

We both turned to look around us at my reply, to witness the deck hands and midshipmen returning to their posts after their midday meal. In truth it did seem rather foolish to think a man like Mr. Hawkins could get the better of me in full view of the rest of the crew, especially when I thought I had his number. Surely if I knew that Mr. Hawkins was playing a game and was careful how I placed my feet, I might be able to use his friendship in my favour?

It was Lieutenant Groves' turn to raise a brow. "Miss O'Connell I shall be frank with you as I was once before. you are young and bright and intelligent but so is Mr Hawkins. Any part of your life that you wish to remain private will be spread out for the world to see across the ocean by Mr. Hawkins. Do not let him get the better of you."

I feigned indifference when really I felt worry increase inside my mind again. "Whats there to keep private." With a shrug I tried to laugh off the Lieutenant's comments and put an end to the conversation there but he glanced over his shoulder as men returned to their work all around us.

"Walk with me?" he asked with a slight jerk of his head towards the vast deck that lay behind us and I got the distinct feeling that I would not be permitted to refuse. All too aware of the empty poop deck at the stern of the ship I knew that the conversation I was about to have would perhaps not be a pleasant one. We were both silent as we crossed the deck and ascended the stairs that led to the poop deck and Lieutenant Groves relieved the one helmsman who stood at the ship's wheel.

For a while we were both silent, watching the crew on the decks below us as they all gazed up briefly at the sun appearing from behind a cloud. I was swiftly beginning to realise that I'd been absent from the brig for quite a long time and would surely be raising Sparrow's suspicions. He'd think I was either securing their release or conspiring with the Commodore. I didn't know which option was worse for I was sure to fail miserably where both were concerned.

"Mr Hawkins is in the current employ of a very rich man," Lieutenant Groves announced suddenly. "He was recently tasked with finding said man's niece who had gone missing. He told us as such. This young woman would be heir to a great fortune once her uncle dies as she is his only living relative. Her uncle is desperate to have her returned to him so that he may ensure her safety."

Oh how I wanted to protest, to shout and scream that it was all lies but I could not. It suddenly dawned on me how Mr. Hawkins might comprehend who I was. He had worked for my uncle, Sir Malcolm Sidney. My uncle had likely promised him the world if he could find me and return me to London. I schooled my expression into one of indifference and tried to appear uninterested in the conversation.

"What's that to do with me Lieutenant?" I was not sure what I saw in his eyes then as he turned to gaze at me, taking his hands off the wheel. It was even more unlikely that an officer of the Navy knew who I really was than Mr. Hawkins finding it out. Hawkins was sneaky, whereas Lieutenant Groves was a thoroughly decent man.

"Miss O'Connell, please do not take me for a fool. Mr Hawkins' current and past employment has everything do do with yourself. I do not believe the search for the missing niece is still active but Mr. Hawkins is not the type of man to let a purse of gold to slip through his fingers. Rest assured; if he comes across Sir Sidney's neice, he will return her to England. He is still in Sidney's employ of course as a guide to the Commodore. To bring home such a gem would mark him as a wonder in Sidney's eyes."

I felt sick then, more sick than I'd ever felt in my life. It sounds wrong doesn't it, to say that not even watching Mick die or being shot myself could make me feel as scared and alone as I did in that moment. Even without Mick I suppose I had a future that was not so bad but to find out that the ship I was sailing on had been commissioned by the very man I had tried so hard to run from. This quest that James was on was being paid for by my uncle. I'd been questioning James's motives since our conversation the day before, but now I was sure Mick had to have been wrong about him. A man who did business with my uncle could not be good; could not have a decent heart. Another thought occurred to me then, that perhaps my uncle wasn't really after this crown after all. Perhaps there was far more in it; more than I could see. All I knew was that once James found out just who I was, he would be just as eager as Mr. Hawkins to return me to my uncle.

I was so lost in thought, suddenly so scared of everything and everyone around me that I did not hear the sound of doors opening and closing below us on the quarterdeck; the doors that led from the captain's cabin. My mind was so busy trying and failing to calculate a way out of my predicament that I did not hear the sound of orders being barked out towards midshipmen as the James observed the main deck from just below us. It appeared Lieutenant Groves had also not noticed that his commanding officer was in close proximity, and about to hear everything that we were to say.

"You're a runaway, are you not Miss O'Connell?"

Lieutenant Groves' words shook me from my scattered and anxious thoughts. "Wh...what?"

"You've runaway from home as so many do? I did ask you not to take me for a fool Miss. You are bright, certainly with the ability to read and write well. I observed as much whilst aboard _The Grace_ some months ago. You had a good education even before you came to sail with Captain O'Malley. In Ireland especially, there are not many who can claim to have had such an upbringing and before you jump down my throat about anti-Irish sentiment, I know so because I have served there myself. I know the Irish to be a hard-working and a family-driven race of people. I do not believe lack of education ever held anyone from your home back and hard-workers fair better perhaps even than those who are wealthy enough to attend a university and spend half of their lives with a nose in books. Even so, Miss O'Connell you are educated. You come from money of some kind, and a young woman of your intelligence would not find herself in such a predicament of having no home to go to. You do not sail the seas because you chanced upon Captain O'Malley in a port town and he offered you a wondrous life aboard his ship. The sea is harsh even for a man, and you knew that before ever you left home. You would not have taken such employment if you had not wished to leave your home. You could have found employment with your level of intelligence you know, perhaps as companion to a lady. Your intelligence would have fared you well. I see no other reason for a young woman such as yourself to be upon the seas than that you ran from home because someone meant you harm."

My breaths were coming in short and sharp gasps as pain seared across my shoulder. Perhaps it was more psychological than physical. I was so afraid in that moment that I welcomed the pain for it was something to cling to, to try and push away all of the other feelings threatening to overwhelm me in that moment.

"Now Miss, you might comprehend why I believe that Mr. Hawkins may not be the best of companions for you. He carries with him a portrait of the young woman he hopes to find, and whilst she looks nothing like you and is a wholly different person, I do believe that if Mr. Hawkins were to find out the truth about you he would exploit the situation to his own benefit. He will soon ascertain for himself that you come from some form of money, and will endeavour to send you back home in return for gold. Other men like myself understand that perhaps for you, the sea believe it or not is a safer place for yourself than what you left behind at home. Mr. hawkins will not care for such a reasoning. He will not think upon you for one moment, only himself. Whoever it was that meant you harm will be presented with you in return for gold."

I sighed heavily as I thought Lieutenant Groves did not know exactly who I was. He had certainly guessed my story quickly enough, but he did not know that I in essence belonged to his benefactor. Perhaps if he did, our conversation might take a different turn. I shook my head then to rid myself of such thoughts. Had the officer not just proved that if he did ever find out the truth, he might be willing to see my side of the argument more readily than most.

Finally, I thought myself composed enough to speak. "I do think I got the measure of Mr. Hawkins, even without your warning Lieutenant. I had rather thought that to have him onside might be better for me. What do I have in the way of friends when I'm not down in the brig?"

He nodded slowly. "I understand that what the Commodore has asked of you seems impossible, but you must consider that Sparrow is a pirate. He has killed before, and will likely do so again. You are in the perfect position to extract information from him."

I shook my head as I felt annoyance prickling up my spine. "I don't know how many times I've said it. I have no idea where that crown is! Sparrow thinks I know and that's why we are here! That's why he was so eager to have me sail with him. There was me thinking that Mick O'Malley's words of reassurance that Jack Sparrow was a good man would see me well. I thought I was securing passage for myself and in truth I walked straight into a trap! You know, if Mick were still alive I might shoot him myself for being so naive in his trust of people!"

"I did not get the chance to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your Captain's passing Miss. He was a good man."

I flicked my tangle of hair over my shoulder and snorted as annoyance took hold of me over fear. "Yes people keep saying that and I don't know why! He was such a decent man and he still got himself shot for it!" I couldn't stay in that one spot any longer, contemplating my future and listening to condolances. I needed to do something with my hands to take my mind off things. "Must I really keep to that cabin below; or is there something I can do Lieutenant? I'll take the knots out of old rope if it's all there is to do!"

Lieutenant Groves threw me a grim smile. "I understand your need for occupation Miss O'Connell, but until your wound shows some improvement and your fever passes I am reluctant to let you exert yourself too much. Rest a while, and in a day or two if you are a little better I might be able to convince the Commodore to let you have some employment."

"I suppose I've no other option but to sit tight then," I replied drearily and wandered towards the steps again.

* * *

 _ **Hawkins is a slippery one isn't he? How do you think he's going to play it with Fiona?**_

 _ **In the next chapter Fiona and James Norrington cross proverbial swords again!**_


	9. Chapter Nine - An Occupation

_**Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter! To the guest, your suspicion of Mr. Hawkins is interesting but you'll have to wait and see how that works out! Icar372; there are a fair few exchanges on the way between Fiona and James over the next few chapters!**_

 _ **So, chapter Nine. James is being a bit of a grade A plonker and we see a bit of Fiona's mind!**_

 _ **Chapter Nine - An Occupation**_

I had hoped that the good Lieutenant would keep his word, but even if he did it appears that James was reluctant to let me offer up any assistance aboard _The Surgence_. A week had passed and I was still skirting the railings, very aware that I was only acknowledged by an officer when he brought me food. The pain of my shoulder wound had lessened a great deal but sleeping on the floor of the brig with only my long tangled hair for a cushion was beginning to take its toll upon my limbs. The stiffness of my bad knee was every day giving me reason to question whether I did indeed need to climb the steep staircases to the upper decks. I did though, because I was determined that no one should see an once of weakness from me.

I'd barely seen James in my stay aboard his ship. He kept much to the Captain's cabin and I only saw him in passing in the evenings. He would acknowledge my presence with little more than a nod of his head, but I was sometimes surprised to even receive that. At the end of the day, for all he knew I was just some sewer rat from Ireland that had more than likely partaken in a fair few dodgy dealings and he was a Commodore swiftly on his way to making Admiral. We were from very different worlds. To be honest if I'd had my way I'd have stayed in my own world. As it was, I was currently stuck somewhere firmly between the two with no way of moving into either.

As much as I might not think myself a pirate, I had somehow aligned myself with the crew still locked within the brig. Perhaps James had sensed my reluctance to help him, for there had been no more mention of a crown or gold or anything like that in my presence. I'm no fool though. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was cornered and had my hand forced in some way. That was why I decided I had better work to understand James a little. If I could have his number as much as he appeared to think he had mine then perhaps I might stand some chance of putting up a fight. Lieutenant Groves was the man I appeared to cross paths with most whilst I was above deck, so I resolved to try and extract some much needed information from him over the course of my many days of boredom. He had been kind to me, and had remembered my name from his time aboard _The Grace_ so I was fairly sure he would at least tolerate some light questioning. It was finding out more about James that I knew I'd have some trouble with at first. It would take time, as well I knew but I knew I stood a chance of building up a rapport with the man. I could cope with the timely task, as time was something I certainly seemed to have.

I already knew for myself of course that there was some strange kind of rivalry between James and Jack Sparrow, but over the course of that first week I came to understand just how deeply it ran with both men. The reality was that I didn't really know Sparrow that well before I came aboard _The Black Pearl_ , so to get to know him in the confines of the brig and then hear a Naval officer's opinion on such a man was a rather odd way to build up an impression of someone. Of James I came to decide that he was rather isolated and lonely. Groves had told me very little, but it was enough for me to ascertain that there was some reason why James was so keen to prove himself. At first I thought perhaps it was an overly strict father or dis-believing mother but I had to discount that theory. James was older than me by perhaps eight or nine years I thought, and at such an age I considered that a man of his position would have shaken off such thoughts of familial disappointment. My next thought was that perhaps he believed he had lost the good opinion of someone else in his life. There were few other options, perhaps someone of a higher rank in the Navy who had been something of a mentor or what I thought was the more plausible option; a woman.

To look at James, who has so determined and focused, I don't think anyone would really believe he was love sick. Even I marvelled at first that he would have the time, or even the sensitivity to develop feelings for a woman. Probing such answers from Groves did not work. What I'd not considered was that Jack Sparrow would be the one to tell me how James had been spurned by a woman he had loved for many years and that she had in turn married a blacksmith, who was also a pirate. She married for love, Sparrow said. It's commendable that she did what was right for her own heart though. I believe I'd think a lot less of Elizabeth Swann if she had continued to torment James by marrying him. She chose the man she loved, and isn't that what we all wish we could do in life?

He believed she had ruined him though. What did he have left now that the only woman he had ever thought of as worthy enough to become his wife was unattainable? Not only was she unattainable but she had never loved him at all. Perhaps she had liked him well enough, and would have found him to be a good husband, but for her he had lacked something; something that James was now sure was a blatant disregard for the laws of the British empire. Perhaps that was what had driven him into the path of that hurricane; some ill-judged quest to prove himself to his Miss Swann, and perhaps even to his own self. I'd never been in love so deeply to begin to comprehend how he must have felt in those weeks and months of heartbreak. All I know to compare it with is the melancholy moods that Mick O'Malley fell into sometimes when he thought of his late wife. He did not get angry or vengeful, for I think that had long passed by the time I met him. It was more of a grim sadness that seemed to envelope him for days on end. Sometimes it even lasted weeks.

Mick was an open book where most things were concerned, and wouldn't have thought twice of a crew member entering his cabin to search for something they needed even if he wasn't there. There was just that one drawer of his desk that remained locked at all times, and he wore the key on a chain about his neck. Even if it had been left unlocked, no one would have dared to open it for we all knew what was kept there. I remember the first time I'd wandered down to his cabin and caught sight of his hunched over form through the ajar door. The grief-stricken expression I saw on his face had me stopping in my tracks, sure that I was invading some form of private upset. I'd already known what had befallen his late wife, but Mick had never talked about his feelings. someone had told me that Mick kept his wife's jewellery in the locked drawer, and that was what appeared to be causing his upset in that moment. In his hand something glistened in the candlelight as he gazed at the trinket almost as if the gold itself were causing him pain. He did not look away though.

Mick wasn't the type to go to that drawer regularly, but there were moments I think when he felt he owed it to his wife to remember her. He felt guilty sometimes that he took pleasure from life and she was not there to share it with him. He would spend a day or two in quite a depressed mood, before some funny occurrence or need for action would snap him back out of it. There was the odd time when it would last longer though. He was still Mick of course, and still Captain in every way. There was something behind his eyes though that told myself at least that his mind was elsewhere. He had every right to feel that way I suppose. It's just that he was torturing himself. I found it very hard to understand just why he caused himself so much pain. There were other men of the crew who had lost people, some had even lost their whole families and they seemed to find their own unique way of coping with it. Perhaps it was the sea, soothing their ills as it so often did mine.

When you're in that dark place, it's so hard to fight your way out of it though. I knew that myself, from what had occurred back in Ireland. I swore to myself I'd never go back there because I knew what it felt like, and because Mick needed us all. Of course, it doesn't always happen the same way. Falling down that trap door into the dark abyss can happen at any time, and for a number of different reasons. It can be triggered by so many things, little or large. The honest truth is that you cannot catch yourself before you fall, because you are in the middle of it before you even know it. I'd thought I could help myself if I ever felt such a way again, that I'd know the signs and take measures to pull myself back from the brink. I was a fool to think that. For I did fall again.

As one week drew into many and I was left listlessly wandering the decks of _The Surgence_ with nothing to do and little in the way of company, my grief began to overtake me. In those weeks more than any other time I let my mind dwell on how things might have worked out differently if Mick had survived. If any of the crew of _The Grace_ had lived, things might have been so different. Perhaps I wouldn't have felt so alone in the world. Sparrow and his crew might have been my comrades pf sorts at that time, but they were not my family as Mick and his friends had been. They had not accepted me in the same way. I did not ever think I would feel so accepted and loved again in my life. There was even that dark part of my mind that I shudder to recollect now, the dark part of my soul that wished Mick had not saved my life, that I too had died that day.

I know now of course that there was little I could have done for myself. I wasn't dealing with what had happened to my friends, or anything that had occurred in my life for that matter. I'd stamped down upon it with my new-found happiness with Mick and I'd pushed it to the back of my mind. I'd pretended I was someone entirely new. Perhaps creating my new identity wasn't as freeing as I'd first thought. whilst it opened up a new life for me to explore, it didn't help me to deal with my past. I could forget it well enough when I was happy, but when grief-stricken it all came crashing back onto me in waves. Before I knew it I was lost again. I had those rare moments of sunshine, when Mr. Hawkins would find the time to tease me when there were no officers around. oddly, I think now that those little moments might have been all that kept me going in some strange way.

Of course I understand it all a little better now. I understand that James was determined to prove himself. He also steered his focus into his naval career a little too quickly, without giving himself enough time to process. That's why there was anger and resentment there in his soul. No matter what he says, back then he was still angry at the world for what had befallen him but he had not questioned whether there was something he himself could do to remedy it. He believed everyone else to be at fault not just for what had become of his life but for what might become of it in the future. He hadn't given much thought to the fact that the rest of his life was entirely his own, to do with as he wished. If he'd seen that, he wouldn't have accepted a commision from a man like my uncle who he neither liked nor trusted.

I also understand that I was also partly to blame for my own decent into depression. There was nothing I could do to stop it of course, because I had no say in the events of my life until that point but perhaps I could have tried to see things differently. I don't tell James any of that, because he gets angry with me. Still sometimes I go over in my mind how I might have helped Mick; saved his life. The guilt is something I hide, for James would not hear of me feeling such a way. He tells me to take my own advice, but who does? I took so much time and patience to help James realise that he could no longer blame himself for the deaths of his crew. It was a painstaking task that I sometimes feel I still undertake, and I'm finally coming to terms with how I must take care of my own mindset as well as his. There's so much that came to pass along our perilous journey that changed us both for the better and the worse but we see now that it's made us who we are.

Now we count our blessings that things worked out the way they did. Although there was much sadness and pain along the way, we appreciate it all now. It's the little things we choose to appreciate; the simple choices and occurrences that wrote our story for us. It's still a marvel to me that Mr. Hawkins sat upon deck, rolling between his tanned fingers the miniature portrait of Niamh Lefroy and that he never once glanced at it and thought he saw it's likeness in me. It's true that I'd greatly changed, but I think it was more to do with the naivety and the greed of Mr. Hawkins. He was too absorbed in gold and treasure to really think of the lost soul of a young woman. Perhaps if he'd been more understanding, more sympathetic; he might have realised that I was the one he had been searching for.

As it was, he was happy to tease and cajole me at every turn. If he gave much thought to the words he had said to me on my second morning aboard _The Surgence_ , he did not mention it to me. I was always aware that he more than likely saw me as a means to increase his fortune, and I think that was what enabled me to interact with him as well as I did considering my mood. I understood that he was perhaps probing for information or a reaction of some kind. Therefore I mapped out how I should behave and react. After a few weeks I began to see a slight change in his attitude towards me. There was a new sort of familiarity within him when he spoke with me. there was more of a friendly manner within him, as if he had accepted me as what I'd presented myself as. Certainly I knew just as much about sailing as he did, perhaps even a little more. I'd worked every day for the last however many years without complaint and had come to greatly enjoy life upon the sea. It was the only path I saw ahead for myself. We had things in common, which I found odd. It enabled me to approach him myself when it was quiet upon deck though. I'd managed to secure for myself somewhat of an ally when it came to the officers and James. We were both outsiders.

I do not think I've ever been so idle my whole life. Not even when I was a child back in Ireland did I spend so many hours in a solitary situation. There was always work to be done in the house helping my mother, or my father would beckon me down the street to the little office he had procured for his legal business to help him keep things tidy. Even in the evenings my father would draw our chairs closer to the fire and pull out a book of some form to read with me. He was adamant that I learn all that I could so that I could better myself. I suppose he wanted a better life for me than my mother had. I never really thought my mother's life particularly hard though. She grew up on a farm, working hard day in day out and that kept her strong and healthy. Perhaps that's where I get my work ethic from. She met my father when she was still young; sixteen or seventeen I think. They were married within a few months and settled into the little house that they'd eventually bring me up in. My father was a country lawyer, more used to the squabbles of farmers over land or cattle but he was a lawyer all the same. It gave him a form of social standing within our town, so much so that the local earl decided to employ my father to conduct his legal affairs. There was money, not a grand amount but there was enough to get by on. We probably could have afforded to move into a larger home but my parents were happy in their little house on their quiet street.

I think perhaps towards the end my mother would have liked to employ some form of help around the house, but circumstances beyond our control forced us to think upon other matters. My father wasn't keen on having help or a bigger house, because his brother who had been taken to England would surely have an opinion on such matters. Scooped from the little cottage as a babe, my uncle Sidney was taken in by distant cousins living in London who had no heirs of their own. Thus my father became an only child. If he resented my uncle, he did not show it much. It was rather that my father wanted to work to prove his worth.

That's where I get it from, the drive and the restlessness. Sitting alone at the bow of the ship day after day was beginning to destroy any hopes I still had left. I didn't know if he had consulted with James, but Lieutenant Groves thought one day to approach me in the company of a midshipman who carried what I knew to be a crumpled sail. When they laid it out upon the deck before me I felt something like anticipation stir in my stomach. I stared down at the wide gash that ran almost the breadth of the sail. The midshipman saluted his officer and marched away to be about his business.

"I had cause to wonder Miss O'Connell, what skill you might have with a needle and thread?"

The woman in me should really have been offended to be lumbered with a task so readily considered women's work but the truth is I saw only the oppertunity for occupation. It also seemed almost like a sort of reluctant acceptance; that I was no longer the waif nestled at the bow of the ship who was little more than a ghost. To me it felt as if certainly Groves and perhaps even James had finally consented to believe that I was in fact a living and breathing person.

I took the old blunt wooden needle and coarse thick thread without protest, feeling for the first time in weeks a sense of purpose. As I said, at the time I was not aware of whether Groves had consulted with James as to whether I was to be allowed a task to complete, but I was so pleased to finally have something to do with my hands that I really gave James's opinion very little thought. It was not an active task, and I only had to move to turn the sail this way and that as I worked. By the time that the bell tolled for the midday meal, I could feel the heat of the sun prickling the back of my neck but it was a feeling I was used to, that I had missed. Long days working in the sun were what my life consisted of; it was what I wanted.

Eager to complete my task in the hopes that the Lieutenant might find more work for me, I forwent food and carried on, my hands and fingers loosening up as the needle and thread passed between them. I finished in less time than I'd envisioned the task to take and sat back against the railings to observe my work. My neck was stiff from sitting in an awkward position for so long but I was so buoyed by time well spent that I didn't care. I stood up to stretch my legs and turned to look out at the ship behind me. My eyes were drawn almost immediately to the quarterdeck, and the emerald green eyes that were gazing at me intently, and I think it was anger that I might have seen in them even from so far away.

It did not take long for James's booted feet to carry him to where I stood, Lieutenant Groves hard on his heels as he rapidly tried to offer an explanation to his superior. James came to a stop just before me, the tips of his boots just falling short of the sail that lay folded neatly at my feet.

"Sir I thought to give Miss O'Connell some occupation as she was wiling and we did not have the men to spare. I made the executive decision in the belief that you would not wish to be bothered with so trivial a matter."

I could see the beads of sweat forming on Groves' forehead as he clamoured to his Commodore, and I felt the odd sensation to laugh at his inability to stand up for himself effectively. Those emerald eyes did not even spare Groves a glance as his eyes first took in the repaired sail and then drew upwards towards me. He lingered just a second too long upon my necklace before his eyes met mine.

"I did not agree to this," James announced.

"But Sir-"

"For God's sake it's just a sail!" I cried with a roll of my eyes. "Now it's a repaired sail. What's so wrong with that?"

"What is wrong Miss O'Connell," James began with no preamble, "Is that my permission was not given. I had expressed my reluctance in the past to allow you to partake in such a task as you are not a member of my crew. You are a guest aboard this ship and one who is not yet fully recovered. I do believe the task I asked of you was to gather information about _The Crown of Immortality_ from Sparrow and his crew."

My shoulder was still painful, but I wasn't about to tell him that. I ignored that statement and instead focused my attention on what I believed he felt most important at that time. "You know, I've asked Sparrow and his crew about this crown. They seem to think that I should know where it is. They don't even know! The truth is that no one really knows do they?" I think it was the sense of hope brought about by a day of occupation that let loose my tongue in that moment, and I decided I didn't care what James thought of my harsh words. "You're all searching for something that doesn't even exist, and you've told me I'm stuck here until you find such a thing! That's a death sentence, do you realise that? So now you're going to tell me that I cannot even pass the time productively? Do you want me to just give up on life entirely; because that's what it seems like to me?"

His expression didn't change. I don't know if I was hoping that it would or not. A vein pulsing at his temple was the only indication that he was not happy with how I'd addressed him. For a moment he was silent, his eyes locked with mine in a battle of wills. There was a lot he could have said in that moment, but instead his eyes fell back down to the sail.

"We have no need for another main sail. We already have spares. This should have been discarded when we last docked in port You're efforts have been wasted in effect."

I don't know what it was within him in that moment that wanted to break me, to pull me back down again but it worked. My anger roiled and from my belt I pulled Mick's knife that I'd hidden for weeks on end. "Fine!" I yelled as the knife plunged into the sail and the sound of tearing fabric met our ears. I scored and scored until the sail was cut to ribbons and then I turned and stalked away, stuffing the knife back into my belt as I went. my hands curled into fists as I made for the steps, stomping my way back down into the brig. The frustration and anger that had been brewing inside me had not been given a suitable outlet in the form of the sail and so I kicked out at whatever my feet could connect with as I went.

* * *

"I hope you do not think me bold Sir, but I had hoped to improve the mood of our guest," Lieutenant Groves explained quietly.

"Her mood?" James questioned as he took a seat behind his desk. "And since when did she carry a weapon? I thought such things had been checked?"

"Sir it appears she kept it well hidden. At any rate, she has not used it for ill. To have a weapon upon her person this whole time and not use it to try and free herself from her current predicament surely shows that Miss O'Connell is trustworthy? Forgive me if I speak out of turn Sir, but I do believe that Miss O'Connell suffers from a very melancholy mood of late. In effect, what she said on deck is not far from the truth. She has been asked to remain aboard whilst we search for an artefact that has no basis in reality. No thought has been given to her own feelings regarding such a matter. She has lost everything, her friends and her home and occupation. I believe I thought some light work might give her purpose. I did not think it would displease you so."

"What displeases me is insubordination," James replied stiffly. I think if I'd been in the room with him I'd have thrown something at him. "It was agreed upon that Miss O'Connell would have no fraternisation with the crew. Instead of following such orders Groves you chose to make her one of them."

"Sir I do believe that is what she may require to keep herself sane. She is depressed. She has no regard for her own life or her future. She is lost. You of all people Commodore Sir must appreciate how low one may sink after a severe loss. You yourself have dealt with grief. In some ways you still deal with it every day. Was that not the reason that you wished to spare her life?"

James shook his head. "Our situations are in no way similar. I agreed to spare Miss O'Connell as she appears to have the unique ability to delve into Sparrow's secrets and procure for us the information we seek. I did so only to gain an insight into Sparrow's mind. I believe I gave no thought to her grief."

"But her Captain Sir?" Groves questioned. "Did we not all greatly respect him and owe him our lives? Miss O'connell in effect does owe us the entire sum of nothing. She and her Captain saved our lives and now we have saved hers. Sir I speak to you as a friend as well as a subordinate. These last months have not been easy for you, but in the face of your grief I think you have forgotten your humanity. You cannot hope to force the girl into subordination when she in fact owes us nothing. She knows that. Even so I do believe if she had any knowledge of the crown she might just impart it to us!"

"She was sailing with pirates Lieutenant!" James cried. "Do not presume to know her! She may have been Captain O'Malley's first mate but she actively chose to seek out Sparrow! whilst I have little choice but to keep her aboard my ship I must ensure she does not influence the men of my crew! To give her occupation would entice her to think she is accepted. Whilst I appreciate the action of saving our lives during that hurricane, and no more wish to lock an innocent young woman in the brig than you Lieutenant, I still remain wary of her. I cannot be seen to take liberties in terms of the law. Miss O'Connell was right when she said that she had in effect chosen piracy in sailing with Sparrow. However, her cooperation with us warrants a reprieve. Information received from her will ensure her own safety."

Groves was shaking his head. He didn't believe James's words and although I was not in the room with the two men, I know that James knew what his friend thought. I don't know if what he said was lies, or if he at that time believed them and later realised how foolish his words had been. Of course he was angry, because the truth is that he and I were similar. We'd both suffered loss and were overwhelmed with grief. I never really got to ask Groves what he thought of that conversation, and only have James's account of it. He told me the truth though because I could tell how ashamed he was of his words. He is ashamed of his treatment of me even though it was not so very bad. It's true that I'd have been considered a pirate under different circumstances and would have faced certain death. James saved me from that with his quick thinking and desire to repay my late captain. I don't know why he was so keen to tarnish his good intentions with his own words. I'd been injured and was allowed time to recuperate, with fresh air and a comfortable cabin (even if I did not make use of it). I'd been fed and watered and was not miss-treated in any way. I could have been a lot worse off. I also had Lieutenant Groves to thank for trying to dispel my depressed mood.

"Sir I will not try to appease you on such matters when you are in such ill temper. All I wish to say is that I believe if Miss O'Connell were given some occupation; some task to complete every day her mood would improve. So might her resolve to aid you. She is grief-stricken and of such a low mood that she cannot see a way to help herself let alone anyone else. Perhaps to feel respected and accepted might restore her former resourcefulness. I do not believe Sir, that you can justify your keeping her aboard as Sparrow knows something you don't. I know your quest is an important one, but you did not spare Miss O'Connell for that reason. Your respect and guilt for what happened to her late Captain who was a good man was all the influence you need. You are equals in some ways, although you should not question her respect for your authority. Captain O'Malley respected you, and so does Miss O'Connell. That is a start, if she grows to tolerate and like you, then perhaps then she will be agreeable to seek out the information you so need. Perhaps it is something to think on Sir."

James had a lot to think on when Lieutenant Groves left his cabin. I know he could not deny in his mind all that his officer had said. He trusted Groves implicitly, and the man had spoken for me. That means something in any walk of life. Even to pirates there is a strange sense of loyalty and respect for the word of a decent man. No matter how James tried to put such matters to the back of his mind, he could not forget them completely. He gave orders that Groves was not to speak with me, and the other officers too were quiet. Thus my only friend not ensconced within the brig appeared to be Mr. Hawkins.

I hadn't told the pirates what happened, for fear that I'd grow angry again. I regretted my behaviour in ruining the sail and the temper that had caused it. I should not have let James get the better of me, but all of my anger in that time was centred upon him even though for the most part he was not to blame. He did not kill Mick, and he had not forced me into a life of piracy. I think I enjoyed hating him a little though. It stopped me hating myself. A meal was brought to the pirates later that evening and Lieutenant Thompson brought me food too, but I shared it out amongst the crew of _The Pearl_ , my appetite lost and hope waning faster than it had built up that morning when I'd held that needle and thread in my hands. My knee gave a painful twinge as I stretched my legs out and I realised that for the first time I'd gone almost a whole day without any complaints from it. I put that down to the good mood I'd found myself in earlier on.

I slumped down in the corner between the iron cage and the side of the ship, wrapping my arms around myself and closed my eyes to fight off the warring emotions that thrust themselves into my mind. I wanted to cry with sadness, but I also wanted to tear things apart and scream in frustration. None of that would get me anywhere else but stuck in that dank brig with Sparrow and his pirate crew.

* * *

 _ **I really felt I had to delve into Fiona's mind and explore her emotions a bit with this chapter! Apologies if it bogs it down a bit but it will help to explain why she connects with the other characters in the next chapters and in ones that are still quite far off!**_

 _ **In the next chapter there's a surprise return in store for Fiona and some more odd dreams to decipher!**_


	10. Chapter Ten - History's Already Charted

_**I don't know why I force myself into the trap of writing long chapters because then it takes ages to get them finished but I think I prefer reading other stories that way. I'm always disappointed when I'm following a story and the updates are short. I'd rather have something to get my teeth into! If you'd prefer shorter chapters though, let me know and I'll try and shake things up a bit!**_

 _ **So there's a flashback at the end of this chapter, and whilst for the most part of this story I'm writing in the first person because I like the idea of it being Fiona's story to tell; I thought the flashback flowed better as third person. So flashbacks will always be in italics and in third person as will Fiona's dreams.**_

 _ **This poem that I've added is not necessarily related to events in this chapter, but more the idea that things have already begun to fall into place and are already in motion. There's nothing to change them and Fiona and James are just going to have to ride the waves as it were.**_

 _ **Thank you to the guest for the review! I hope you enjoy this one!**_

 _ **If anyone has any ideas or things they would like to see from characters in this story please let me know in a review, I can't promise to use them as this story is all intricately mapped out out I can try my best to fit them in somewhere!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Ten - History's Already Charted**_

 _I am the ship in which you sail,_  
 _little dancing bones,_  
 _your passage between the dream_  
 _and the waking dream,_  
 _your sieve, your pea-green boat._  
 _I'll pay whatever toll your ferry needs._  
 _And you, whose history's already charted_  
 _in a rope of cells, be tender to_  
 _those other unnamed vessels_  
 _who will surprise you one day,_  
 _tug-tugging, irresistible,_  
 _and float you out beyond your depth,_  
 _where you'll look down, puzzled, amazed._

 ** _Freight - Maura Dooley_**

* * *

 _There was water under the woman's feet. Was there water under mine too? I could certainly feel it. Was she down in the brig with me? Had we sprung a leak? I was in that hazy land between sleep and wakefulness, tumbling through images in my mind of the gloomy brig only lit by one lone lantern and of something else. I could see a woman's feet; no, feel her feet as the tide washed in and out around her. the freezing cold water was strangely soothing to us both, but the water was slapping against stone and not the decking of the ship that was made of wood. There was a difference in the sound. I wanted to pull my own feet away from the coldness, but the woman seemed to enjoy it, perhaps even think of it as home. She let her feet slide along the solid rock as far as her legs could reach, but something held her back. She was fighting against it, and I could feel myself begin to fight too. We thrashed but it was no use. Whatever it was, she was trapped. Was I tripped with her? I couldn't be. I'd fallen asleep in the brig as I did every night. I could not be with this woman. But what if she was with me in the brig now, trying to send me some message? Was Mai resting a hand on my arm to place images in my head again?_

Wrestling to wakefulness my head immediately snapped around towards the iron bars. Mai was seated as far from me as possible, and looked to be sleeping herself. How had I seen such a thing then? I wondered if Mai had only needed to touch me the once to exert her influence. Would I always see things in my dreams now because she had touched me once? Not just see, but feel. I glanced down towards the wooden decking, damp as it always was but not enough to have caused such a sensation. Besides, my feet were still encased in my flimsy shoes and very dry. It had felt so real though. vaguely in my head I wondered if the woman needed help. She was certainly held back by some force but perhaps it was not a bad thing. If untethered would she wade out into the water and drown?

I shook my head to try and rid myself of the images flooding my mind of her dainty feet, with the water curling around her toes. There was something familiar about her but I did not know how. I'd not seen her face or heard her speak so how on earth I came to that conclusion I do not know. I realised I would probably need to ask Mai when she woke. I knew I'd not get much more sleep but the thing about the brig is you have no sense of time. It could be the most beautiful sunny day above deck but in the brig you can't see any of that. It's quieter at night most of the time but in bad weather that point is moot. There was some noise, but not a great deal of it. I guessed at early morning; perhaps just after dawn.

I wanted fresh air badly, but I was reluctant to surface above deck after the events of the day before. Of course Lieutenant Groves was trying to be kind in his giving me some task to complete, but he had more than likely gotten himself into trouble for it. His kindness made me feel bad because it was my fault if he had been given a telling off from his Commodore. I didn't want to make matters worse. I could give him a wide berth I supposed and go in search of Mr. Hawkins instead. Oddly, it never occurred to me to feel bad about getting Mr. Hawkins into trouble. I always readily believed he got what was coming to him. Maybe it was some kind of sixth sense. Nevertheless he was still the only real companion I had away from the brig.

I came to realise just how I would come to need such an ally much sooner than I expected. The chaos that ensued below decks was nothing untoward as I meandered up from the brig to get some fresh air, my knee protesting violently as I slowly climbed the steps out into the sea air. What I saw though when my head came level with the railings halted me in my tracks. I had no idea where I was in terms of geographical location having lost an interest some weeks ago, but I knew we were far from any land worth knowing. When I coupled that knowledge with the sight that met my eyes, everything that had come to pass in recent weeks became that much harder to fathom. Staring out across the starboard side of the ship, I forgot to breathe as a sight met my eyes that I thought I'd never see again. Someone at the helm had turned the ship's wheel to bring us in closer to a rocky outcrop of small, sparse islands in the middle of the ocean. The islands were in no way large enough to accommodate any wildlife or habitation at all, and appeared entirely deserted. The most peculiar thing was the heavily listing merchant ship that seemed to have run aground upon the rocks, it's torn main sail fluttering idly in the wind.

I didn't need to wait until we were within closer range to know what ship it was. My mind went blank as I struggled to understand how in the midst of that storm all those weeks ago, _The Grace_ had managed to somehow survive the perilous seas. Considering I'd washed up on a beach in Tortuga alone, I'd thought the ship must have sank. At the time I think my mind stopped and started. For a few moments it was entirely devoid of any thought and then swiftly it would snap into action and a bubble of some strange exhilarated hope would grow within my stomach as I thought about just what I might find if I was to step aboard _The Grace_ again. Might I find my friends again, perhaps even alive?

It was Mr. Hawkins who noticed that I was above deck, witnessing what I believed might be some sort of resurrection before my own eyes. I'd forgotten I still stood upon the top step and he yanked me out of the way as mid-ship-men struggled to pass me. closer and closer we sailed, and I was left in no doubt that James and his officers knew what ship they were sailing towards. The shout was given up that only officers were permitted to disembark once we reached _The Grace_ but I disregarded such instruction straight away. Was I really expected to sit quietly in the corner and not attempt to board my old ship; my old home? I raced towards the railings as we eventually came up alongside the much smaller ship and someone barked at me to move back as ropes were thrown out to ensnare the railings of _The Grace._ I ignored those instructions too and grabbed a rope with the intention of catapulting myself across the railings. With one foot braced against the wood I tried to climb up but hands clamped down either side of my waist and hauled me backwards. I dropped the rope and yelled, fighting against the tight hold.

"You don't know what's over there Miss!" Mr. Hawkins' voice said from behind me as he hauled me back towards the middle of the deck.

"My friends!" I roared. "That's what!"

Us Irish, we can make enough noise when we want to. Eyes turned in our direction as I continued to yell, not really caring that I probably sounded like every Navy-man's worst nightmare. I fought off Mr. Hawkins relatively easily and I think now that it was a mixture of sheer desperation and determination that helped me in that moment. He'd held on to me pretty tightly I think, for when he grabbed my arm to try and hold me back he left bruises. Again I tried to shake him off with a few choice words my mother would never have wanted to hear me utter. This time he appeared ready for me though.

"That ship ain't safe! Look how it lists to the side! let the officers secure it first and then we'll see if you can go over?"

I still struggled against his hold, sure that he did not mean what he said but a new voice entered the fray. "Mr. Hawkins, perhaps you might explain what goes on here?" Lieutenant Groves approached us from the side and I faltered a little, hoping that the man I'd come to think of as decent might allow me to follow in the wake of his fellow officers. That gave Mr. Hawkins the chance to grab my other arm in a firm hold.

"Don't you know what ship that is?" I questioned.

"I know very well Miss O'Connell, but you heard the Commodore's orders I am sure. Officers alone are to venture aboard." Groves turned to glance towards his men who were now swiftly climbing onto the railings and descending onto the deck of _The Grace_.

"Surely she can have a look around afterwards though Sir?" I heard Mr. Hawkins ask. "Ain't that fair; once it's deemed safe? If I were her I'd want to."

Groves turned back to assess us both with shrewd eyes and for a few seconds I really did think he might agree. "I am afraid it is not safe," he commented. Then he seemed to find some sympathy within him for his eyes met mine. "I am sorry Miss, but those are the orders."

I felt the fight drain out of me then as I realised they would all endeavour to stop me returning to the deck of _The Grace_. Even now when I look back I still don't really see any solid reason for their reluctance apart from the obvious concern for safety. Still Mr. Hawkins had not relinquished his grip and as I resigned myself to the fact I'd have to stay where I was I halfheartedly tried to shake him off. His grip tightened again.

"Oh for Pete's sake would you let go of me!" I yelled.

"Perhaps Mr. Hawkins," a new voice called, "You might allow our guest the use of her own limbs?"

James was at the railings, watching our scene play out with a mild curiosity. Mr. Hawkins' hands dropped from my upper arms immediately and I shuffled away from him. I don't know why but for a second I thought I might be admonished for my shouting fit. I can't imagine James had much experience of irate Irish-women before he met me but for some reason he appeared unperturbed. A slight jerk of his head had me called to his side. I didn't really want to hear his reasons for my remaining aboard _The Surgence_ , or to be given a telling off for my behaviour but I felt I had no choice. as I slowly approached him I couldn't read his eyes at all, and for a moment he simply looked down upon me as if wondering how best to proceed. He threw a glance towards _The Grace_ where his officers were already upon deck before he turned back to me.

"If I permit this..." Whatever I had been expecting it was not that. I lifted my head up, suddenly praying he was going to continue. "You will touch nothing unless instructed to do so?"

I knew I wasn't going to comply, but for the sake of getting my own way I nodded. I knew he needed no reason to stop me from doing something after the events of the day before.

"But Sir, is it safe?" Groves asked pointedly.

I saw the thought cross James's mind as his eyes flickered slightly. Then they fell upon Mr. Hawkins before returning to me. "Mr. Hawkins will accompany you."

Now I know why he did that. Mr. Hawkins was much more of a liability than I was. James knew the love and respect I had for my old ship. He knew even if he didn't show it at all that I had no want of damaging it any further or of ruining what Mick had built. It was Mr. Hawkins he was more concerned with.

Setting foot upon _The Grace_ again is still one of the weirdest experiences of my life. Despite the officers who marched to and throw there was still an odd sort of eerie stillness that surrounded me. There was no more life left there, that I was sure of. I felt a stabbing pain in my chest, as if I was realising all over again that my friends were gone. Any hopes I'd had of finding any of them alive were dashed as I stared out at the expanse of deck. My eyes caught on holes in the wooden railings, in the decking where shots had embedded themselves and I shuddered. Part of me didn't want to go any further. I didn't want to see what lay below deck. I knew I had to though, in memory of all those that had died that day. I had to think of my family who had sailed with me on that ship and of their sacrifice. I had to think of how Mick had died to save me. I owed it to them to see the devastation left behind.

" _The Grace_ , bit of an odd name for an Irish ship?" Mr. Hawkins queried from beside me. "I've seen many Irish ships with place names, names of saints or of old superstitions. It's odd."

"Odd?" I croaked, my voice suddenly coarse and harsh sounding even to my own ears. "Have you not heard of the famous lady pirate from about a hundred or so years ago; _Grace O'Malley_?"

"Was she a relation to your Captain?"

I shrugged. "I don't think so, Mick just thought it was funny."

Mr. Hawkins tugged me along by the arm then, his grip much more gentle this time. It was almost as if he knew I'd changed my mind about venturing below deck. We followed some officers down through the doorway that led to the lower parts of the ship. We followed the staircase right down, and that was the first I noticed that my knee was not complaining again. Perhaps my subconscious had sensed my nerves; the direness of the situation and had decided I needed all of my concentration intact. Down we travelled until we reached the brig. Immediately I knew we were not the first to set foot there. Our store of food and drink was gone, as was any form of weapon that had been kept there. Gunpowder and muskets had been taken too. I shook my head wanly as I imagined the cruel sort of soul who had robbed a graveyard. That was effectively what the ship was, even though I saw no bodies. I'm glad I didn't. I don't know if I'd have been able to hold my resolve otherwise.

I then supposed I could not criticise the looters. Perhaps they were near death themselves; run out of supplies in what could be the loneliest most desolate place in the world. After all, there was no crew aboard _The Grace_ to need food or water now. I turned away and trudged back up the staircase as Mr. Hawkins followed me. There was another part of the ship I wished to visit, but I did not know if I had the nerve. when we stopped before the door of the Captain's cabin I sucked in a sharp breath, hating the fact that officers were even now rifling through Mick's things. The door was ajar and I saw the odd flash of blue as an officer crossed the cabin. My feet worked of their own accord as I approached and pushed the door open further as my mind really was not ready for such an exploit.

I could still smell him. I chocked a little on the stale air of the cabin that had clearly been shut up all of those weeks. Stepping into his refuge I could suddenly still feel him around me. It was overwhelming, but strangely I didn't feel sad or upset. It felt like coming home. It was as if he were still there, scratching out some note in his log as chaos ensued above deck. Mick liked chaos and madness around him, that was why every member of his crew was Irish. I found that I couldn't reach out to touch his little trinkets that sat along the sideboard or the books stacked there because then they would no longer be where Mick had wanted them to be. I was glad that there seemed to be a begrudging sense of respect in the officers there, who searched with calm efficiency but disturbed nothing at the same time. My abrupt feeling of calmness didn't last long.

I turned back into the cabin in time to witness Mr. Hawkins prising open the locked drawer of Mick's desk with some metal tool or other; his free hand already plunging in to extricate the pieces of worn and cheap jewellery. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled as I barrelled towards him. "Get your thieving hands off those now!" I made a grab for his arm and he pulled away, his eyes on the gold locket that now lay in his palm along with some rings and a string of pearls.

I struck out my arm again, but a voice halted my action. "Mr. Hawkins!"

At James's bark the jewellery was dropped back into the drawer and Mr. Hawkins backed away from the desk. I lurched forward, shoving the drawer closed with a quick thud. My hands stayed splayed across the varnished wood, determined that no one else would disturb Mick's private things. "That's private!" I yelled at Mr. Hawkins as I felt the first tear prick my eye. "All of this is private!"

Mr. Hawkins backed away even further, sensing my ire. "Perhaps Mr. Hawkins you might find a use for yourself above deck?" James asked drily and I'm sure he rolled his eyes. It was no question though and everyone present knew it. Mr. Hawkins scurried away in little time, not even glancing back as he left. I knew that was not the end of the matter though as James's watchful gaze was still upon me. "What does the drawer contain?"

I didn't want to answer him, but as his eyebrow quirked curiously I knew I wouldn't be permitted to move until I'd told him the truth. "Mick's wife died a long time ago," I mumbled. "It's her jewellery. It's not worth anything though."

His green eyes widened a little, something in them changing or softening . "No indeed I imagine they are worth a great deal to some. If you wish to keep them Miss O'Connell then you may."

He turned away from my gaze then, and my jaw dropped slightly. I'd expected him to confiscate the trinkets. He embedded himself quickly into a conversation with his officers and left me alone on the other side of the cabin with my grief. I slowly pulled open the drawer and scooped out the pieces of jewellery. There was a small engraved ring that might have fitted one of my own fingers and I knew it was Mick's late wife's wedding ring. There were her pearls, a little discoloured but still a pretty sight and the gold locket that I did not need to open for I knew it held a golden lock of the woman's hair. What was I to do with such things? They had meant the world to Mick but I'd never met his wife. It was Mick and not her who I'd been close too. They were his most treasured possessions which meant I had a duty of care towards them though. I'd have to keep them. I had no other option.

I gazed at them intently for a while, wondering where on earth I could keep them without them gaining the attention of Mr. Hawkins or even Jack Sparrow and his crew. They might have been cheap and worn but those kinds of men didn't care about that. If it was worth a few pennies, then it was worth a few pennies. I was so lost in my thoughts that it took James to call to me three or four times before I heard him. When I finally glanced up I found him and Lieutenant Thompson gazing into the now empty cupboard of one wall of the cabin.

Having gained my attention at last, James spoke again. "Do you know what may have been stored here Miss O'Connell?"

Of course I knew. For myself it might have stored some of the most important things upon the ship. I'd never have been able to stay with Mick if it hadn't been the cupboard full of maps that released my potential. "Maps," I croaked, my mouth still bone dry. "maps and charts. Why would someone bother with maps and charts?"

"They may have lost their own," James commented as he too pondered my question. Whilst I did think it was strange at the time, I didn't realise the significance of it all. My mind was preoccupied with the jewellery I held and the pain I still felt.

I didn't realise that I'd been contemplating all of that in quiet solitude and that James had left the room until he returned to me a while later. "Miss O'Connell?"

I stood up from Mick's chair to follow James as he retreated back down the corridor and stopped outside another cabin that I knew very well because it had been my own. My cabin, my home, my little refuge from the cruel and hard world. I was not a collector of trinkets really. Anything of any value I kept on my person at all times, so all that the cabin contained were a few shirts and breeches and skirts and other items of clothing piled into a chair in the corner. I'd not even given a thought to my own cabin before now, or the fact I'd worn the same shirt and skirt for weeks on end. I stepped into the room towards the chair of my clothing with my arm outstretched, only stopping when I recalled the instructions I'd been given of not touching anything. I turned back to James with what was probably an expectant look and he nodded. "retrieve what you like."

Then he was gone. He was such an enigma to me back then. Just when I had consented to hate him he offered up another side of him for me to puzzle over. To let me keep Mick's trinkets and collect my clothing was decent of him. I was still somewhat of a prisoner though. I couldn't decide how to see him when he behaved in such a way.

I look back on that day now and realise how much I missed. I don't blame myself, for I was grieving and my emotions were all over the place, but there were questions I should have asked that only came to mind as I slumped down onto the floor of the brig a while later, exhausted and confused. I did not speak to answer the badgering questions of _The Pearl_ crew who had heard all of the commotion from above but had seen none of it. My mind had wandered to how on earth _The Grace_ had survived that storm. How had I survived more importantly. Clearly, we were weeks away from Tortuga, yet I'd washed up there. How was that possible? We'd all ended up in the water that day, that much was very clear. My friends had all been swept down into the locker of Davy Jones no doubt, so what kind of magical force had propelled me towards that beach in Tortuga and why?

I was rudely awoken after sleeping for no time at all by the unmistakable sound of cannon fire. We all jerked out of our sleeping positions and glanced towards the doorway in search of some form of explanation. the din was almost deafening.

"Be a good lass and find out what's happening?" Gibbs asked me as he used the iron bars as leverage to pull himself to his feet.

There was fear gnawing at every part of me. The last time I'd heard cannon fire aboard a ship I'd almost died. I'd lost my friends to it. For a moment I was frozen, too much in the grip of my own unique brand of terror to hear what anyone said to me. It seemed an impossible feat then, for me to ascend the steps into the unknown. A hand clamped down around my arm through the bars and I glanced to my left to see Mai gazing at me intently. "If you want know...must see it yourself."

Her broken English puzzled me then as it always did. She wanted me to see what was going on above deck, that much was clear. A part of me wanted to see too because I was a woman of action and not a cowering wreck who hid in the brig. If that were the case, I'd have sank to the locker with Mick and the rest of the crew. I shook myself bodily to try and bring back some feeling into my numb toes. my feet placed themselves slowly one in front of the other as I moved away from the pirates and tried to control my breathing as I went. The steps were hazardous, with Navy men everywhere, not caring who they knocked into as they rushed to and from their posts.

I slipped countless times as my feet lost all feeling in them repeatedly; almost as if they'd been submerged in ice cold water. I stopped suddenly, fleetingly recalling the dream I'd had. Had that been some kind of premonition? Had it told me inadvertently that I'd end up with my feet in cold water? What did I tell you about the Irish and superstition? That was what made me move more quickly. I was not going to be that quivering wreck who succumbed to what some dream had told me. Us Irish do that from time to time, and on a ship of Irishmen I'd have been listened to, my theories and thoughts considered but on an English ship I'd be laughed at.

I was not going to be their entertainment. So I moved. Spurned on by my new determination, I reached the main deck alongside midshipmen returning from the crew's mess. Everyone was staring straight ahead and out over the bow towards a ship just under a league away. I sucked in a sharp breath as they fired yet more cannons in warning. With the pirate flag fluttering in the late afternoon wind above their mast and the figurehead of a screaming banshee, I knew there was only one ship that could be, and she was gaining on us.

"Perhaps we might have need to consult our pirate friend in the brig as to who this ship might belong to Sir," Lieutenant Gillette asked his Commodore as I approached the officers and Mr. Hawkins from behind.

"There's no need for that," I announced as I drew level with them, my knee twisting painfully as I came to a halt. I couldn't help the wince that crossed my face but I was sure that everyone was too preoccupied. "I'd know that ship anywhere. That's _The Banshee's Disgrace_. That's Kat Devlin."

"Kat Devlin?" Mr. Hawkins asked incredulously. "Wha-"

"Are you kidding me?" I yelled as I turned to him. "Kat Devlin? The best Irish Pirate there's ever been. If you haven't heard of her then you're no sailor."

"Well whether she's good or bad it matters not, as she's firing upon us!" Mr. Hawkins cried back.

James was watching us intently; how long for I didn't know. His eyes met mine over Mr. Hawkins' shoulder and I knew what question he silently asked me.

"She'll blow us out of the water," I answered quietly.

* * *

 _"How long have you sailed with Captain O'Malley then?" Lieutenant Groves asked Fiona as she pulled up the fishing nets to see what catch they had. She'd heard the man approaching her, but she'd not stopped her work._

 _"Almost six years give or take, why?" she asked as she hauled the net onto deck to cut free some fish._

 _"Forgive me Miss, but you do not look old enough."_

 _I laughed. "Oh I'm no Miss. Name's Fiona, and I don't really think age matters out here. If you'll work hard you'll get by."_

 _"I suppose that must be true on your part," he agreed with a nod. "Not much of a life though."_

 _"What?" she asked as she finally dropped the net from her hand and looked up at him. "Not much of a life? It's the only life I'd have. I love it," she announced as she felt a warm smile creep onto her face. "These men are me family. I'd nothing at home to keep me there. I've seen sights a girl my age can only read about in some fancy story book."_

 _"Then you have the heart of an adventurer?" Groves leaned against the railings, seeming content to let her carry on her work whilst he asked questions of her._

 _"Don't you Lieutenant?" she chuckled in reply. "Isn't that what the Navy is all about?"_

 _He threw her a wistful smile. "Yes I suppose it was once."_

 _Fiona watched as his eyes roved over the ship, coming to land on some of his fellow officers and their captain where they stood at the helm. One of them raised their hands to him by way of greeting and beckoned Groves to them._

 _"Duty calls?" Fiona queried. "I'd go if it were me. That Commodore of yours doesn't look like a man who likes to be kept waiting!"_

 _"I couldn't possibly comment Miss," Groves whispered coyly as a wry smile lit up his features for a few seconds. Then he nodded his head to her and marched away._

 _She watched his retreating back, summarising that he seemed a decent sort of fellow. That didn't mean she wanted him anywhere near her. She'd moved in the direction of the nets to stay away from the eight Navy men who currently co-inhabited with them. She'd already had countless arguments with Mick about it all, but she knew that the reality was there was nothing else for Mick to do but take them back to port. The Commodore of Port Royal was clearly distraught, with red rimmed eyes and a sickly pallor that told everyone he'd not consumed a morsel of food in the three days he'd been aboard_ The Grace _. Mick had told her that the Commodore felt the loss of his ship and most of his crew was all his own fault; that he'd sailed them into that blasted hurricane. Fiona didn't know what to make of it all, but she was resenting their presence. If anyone got an inkling that she wasn't entirely who she said she was, there would be trouble ahead._

* * *

 _It was an hour later that she saw a ship on the horizon and stuffed Mick's knife back into her belt. She took off at a run, racing across the main deck to the doorway that led down into the cabins. She barrelled through Mick's cabin door so fast her red curly mop of hair flew into her face and obscured her view for a second until she forced it back out of the way._

 _"Mick, we've got problems!"_

 _"What is it?" he asked her urgently as he saw the apprehension in her eyes._

 _"It's a Kat Devlin shaped problem."_

 _"Jesus Christ..." he muttered as he followed her back out into the corridor and onto the deck._

* * *

 _"Kat Devlin? The Pirate?" a voice asked her from behind._

 _Fiona turned to find Liuetenant Groves approaching her again. "Didn't Mick tell you lot to stay below. If Kat sees a Navy uniform we're done for!"_

 _"Miss should you not also be below-"_

 _"Yeah no time for that," Fiona cried as she grabbed the man's shoulder and pushed him down onto his knees with all her might. "Just stay down and she might not see you!"_

 _She pulled out her pistol and cocked it, waiting apprehensively as_ The Banshee's Disgrace _drew alongside their port side. A few moments ago it had seemed as if Kat was going to attack them, but it now appeared she was thinking twice about it. With one hand still on the Lieutenants shoulder Fiona raised her pistol a little and watched as Kat Devlin took up position just opposite her aboard her own ship._

 _"Kat." Her greeting was cold but somewhat civil as the woman drew level with her._

 _"Fiona," Came Kat's reply in much the same tone. "Grand to see you, how goes it?"_

 _"Better now that you aren't about to blow us apart it would seem."_

 _"Aye," the fellow Irishwoman grinned. "What can I say lass, richer pickings to be had today." Sure enough as Fiona followed Kat's eye line she saw what looked like a Spanish galleon just visible beyond the stern of_ The Grace _. "Don't worry! Your day will come though, sooner than Mick ever thought it would! We'll see you to the locker, have no doubt about that!" Kat was no longer level with Fiona, and she had to shout for her next words to be heard. "Did you not hear, that Commodore Norrington sank his own ship a few days ago! He's in the locker himself to be sure! There will be anarchy upon the seas now! You lot won't have long to wait to meet your maker!"_

 _The wind changed slightly and the sail overhead made a snapping sound as Groves stared up at Fiona. "What the devil was all of that about?" he cried as he tried to stand._

 _Fiona applied more weight to his shoulder. "Wait a while. Lets be sure she's gone first."_

 _"What did she want?" came Mick's shout from the quarter deck._

 _Fiona turned and gave him a shrug, hoping he could see such a motion from where he stood. "The usual! To scare the bajaysus out of us!"_

 _Fiona released the Lieutenant's shoulder as she felt_ The Grace _pick up speed. Mick was right in his eagerness to put distance between_ The Grace _and_ The Banshee's Disgrace; _the crew of which was at that moment in time attempting to sack a Spanish Galleon._

 _"Was that-"_

 _"Kat Devlin?" Fiona finished his question for him. "The one and the same; the most dangerous woman on the sea."_

* * *

 ** _So what do you think of Kat Devlin? Anyone any ideas about Fiona's dreams? As always, review and let me know our thoughts! Would be great to hear them!_**


	11. Chapter Eleven - Acknowledgement and

_**Hello again! Thanks for any reviews, greatly appreciated as always guest and Icar372! Please do send my any ideas or suggestions that you have and I'll see if I can weave them in somewhere for you!**_

 ** _We finally get to see some action in this chapter and I should also warn of a character death! Please don't hate me! We also get to see quite a productive and reliable Fiona, and a rather grim but inevitable side of James Norrington._**

 ** _I think this is my favourite chapter I've written so far, simply because I feel it showcases Fiona very well!_**

 **Chapter Eleven - Acknowledgement and Acceptance**

"Thompson; the powder store with you! lower decks are your responsibility! Gillette with myself at the helm and Groves and Norris to the gun decks. Alden and Holmes will have charge of the bow and the stern respectively!"

The officers were moving before James had even finished speaking, until it was only myself and Mr. Hawkins left in his presence. Despite the panic that I was sure all of the men felt in that moment everything seemed to run like a well oiled machine. It was an organised chaos as everyone seemed to know what it is they were needed to do. I was not foolish enough to think I'd be permitted to help though. I stayed quiet, hoping that my silence might prolong my stay above deck where I could see what was going on.

"Commodore Sir, where might I be of assistance?" Mr. Hawkins asked in what I thought was a very polite manner. Clearly he wanted to help too and knew that one wrong word might send him below decks to the brig.

I watched James turn to appraise Mr. Hawkins slowly, his emerald green eyes taking in every inch of the man before him. "The gun deck with you if you feel you'll be fast enough to be of assistance. If not, then I'd have you upon the forecastle deck Mr. Hawkins. I'd say you'd have skill enough with a pistol to warrant you being of some use there."

Mr. Hawkins nodded his agreement and moved in the direction of the forecastle. Of course he'd chosen that option, for he wasn't a proper sailor. A real sailor knew how to load cannon at break neck speed. For a few seconds I thought perhaps James had forgotten my presence as he stared out at _The Banshee's Disgrace_ which was looming ever closer to us, still firing off warning cannon. The wind changed slightly as we stood there side by side, and my hair whiped up and billowed behind my head in the breeze. We had the wind on our side at least. The pirate ship was close enough now that I could just make out Kat's red locks being tousled by the wind too.

I felt the deck vibrate under my feet as _The Surgence_ fired her own warning cannon and tried not to jump a little at the sound. It appeared my movement finally registered with James. Without even looking towards me he called, "The officers cabins with you Miss O'Connell! Do not report to deck until you are fetched!" With that he moved off towards the helm.

"But I can help!" I roared after him indignantly but I don't think he even heard me over the sound of cannon fire.

Men clambered all over the steps as I descended into the darkness again but I had no intention of retreating to the officers quarters. It had crossed my mind to go down to the brig to tell Sparrow and his friends what was going on but I didn't get that far. As I passed the threshold of the upper gun deck my breath caught. The sight that caught my eyes was one so familiar to me that I couldn't help following where my feet led. It was chaos, with men darting here and there carrying baskets of round shots and barrels of gunpowder. Most were already firing warning shots and the air was filing with an acrid smoke that engulfed my lungs as it had done so many times before in the last lot of years. This was what I found familiar, not traipsing up and down the long decks with nothing to do all the live long day.

It took me a while to discern just where Lieutenant Groves was in all of the racket but eventually I heard his voice as he gave orders above the heads of the midshipmen and I moved towards it with an air of faked confidence that seemed to placate the men, although most of them still stared. He was so engrossed in inspecting the cannon of that deck that for a while I was stood behind him in wait of his attention. He seemed to talk constantly, observing the work of the men around him to ensure that there was no other aid needed; that they had all of the supplies required. I glanced to the right and left of me as I was jostled about in all of the chaos, sure that I'd loose count of the cannons if I tried to observe how many there were, and there was another deck below us which was filled with cannon for the same purpose.

Finally I sensed a lull in conversation as Groves pulled away from a balding midshipman who had removed his hat and blue coat. His rolled up shirt sleeves to present forearms blackened with gunpowder as he continued to load the cannon alone. Mick had always ensured there were at least two to handle each cannon. It made for quicker work when there was one to load the cannon and another to light the fuse. Of course, the cannons upon _The Grace_ were much smaller than any of the ones I saw aboard _The Surgence._ Looking back, I do wonder how they would have managed with just two men to each heavy cannon. I saw an opening though and stepped forward into the Lieutenant's line of vision.

"Miss O'Connell, what do you do on this deck? The officer's cabins would be a safer berth for you-"

I must have rolled my eyes at him. I can't imagine how I'd have been able to resist it. "Lieutenant I can run guns as well as any man can. I can help!"

The truth is I remember very little of the time I spent on that gun deck. I don't recall what it was that appeared to make the Lieutenant change his already set mind; to let me help. He deliberated for a while before he seemed to admit defeat and nodded to me. I recall that he introduced me to the man who worked alone at the cannon; telling me that his name was Bennett. I was also told that if Bennett saw fit to order me back to the cabins if the danger increased; I was to go. I agreed of course because if I hadn't I don't think I'd have been allowed to help at all. Lighting the fuse was an easy task compared to cleaning the barrel of the cannon with a wet cloth to prevent any remaining embers setting off the gunpowder prematurely and then loading it with first gunpowder, then wads of straw and finally the shot. I'd been given the safer end of the job, which I'm sure some of the men on that deck found rather odd, but Bennett didn't seem to mind so much. No, I think if I'd have been paired with another man the Irish Catholic woman might have found herself at the end of the cannon more likely to cause harm.

My job was not as simple as lighting the fuse though. With Bennett stationed at the side towards the front, I was also in charge of directing the gun through the hole in the bulwark so that the shot could be fired free of the ship. Sighting a line of fire was not something that could really be done very well on any ship, and I found that to be the case aboard _The Surgence_ where the air was so thick with smoke and powder that I could barely tell when Bennett had finished loading the cannon, let alone where to direct the fire. I settled for straight ahead, seeing as we were only firing warning shots in the beginning in the somehow misplaced hope that Kat Devlin might suddenly change her mind and take her ship out of our path. All of that I would need to do, whilst the ship shuddered and rocked precariously.

I knew even if no one else did, that Kat did not retreat from a fight; not ever. You watch so many shots loaded into the barrel, light the fuse so many times that you begin to lose track of count or time in that strange atmosphere. There's shouting and yelling as the men struggle to be heard over the sound of cannon fire. There's sometimes the occasional yelp of pain as some poor soul gets their foot trapped underneath the casters as the cannon is rolled back into place after being loaded. As I've already said, it's also damned hard to see a hand in front of your face. It's nothing short of frightening. I think in some weird way the adrenaline kept me moving even though to be honest all I could think of was Mick and my friends who had died that day. They'd met their end through gunfire from cannon and pistol; the weapons dreamt up by men who saw only war as the future of the world.

It makes you wonder doesn't it, why it was the male species who as considered the more intelligent one? Why men were chosen as the leaders and women the followers when all that they've ever really wanted to do is blow each other apart with monstrous creations. Women on the other hand; most of us want a peaceful world for children to grow up in. We want to live as equally as men, so that a woman alone might fend for her family as well as she can. Sometimes well meaning and spoken words can work far better than cannon fire. All it takes is a little consideration. Instead we're all playing second fiddle to hot headed fools who think the only way to get ahead in life is by fist or pistol.

Don't get me wrong, I've no qualms with a woman who uses her fists to get by. It's often a requirement especially if you must deal with a man like my uncle with regular occurrence. I'd much rather see a tough woman fight her way to freedom even if it means living on the streets. I'd rather see that than some poor soul with not an ounce of fight in them; being treated no better than an animal at the hands of a man who is charged with loving and protecting her. I've never had much cause for physical fighting in my life really. I was taught how to land a punch by the men of Mick's crew because to them I was one of them. I was an honorary man in their eyes and they wanted me in the thick of the scuffles with them. I found I wanted that too after a while. I wanted to be able to hold my own. I don't think I was ever terrible at it though, because I know I landed a fair few good punches the day I ran from my uncle, which I'll allude to later in my story where it fits more succinctly. They say though that in those moments where you have no other choice that something kind of takes over your body and you're somehow able to defend yourself like you've never done before. Preservation of life and hope for something better is what I think it was with me. If I'd not fought like a wild cat, my uncle would have kept me in his clutches. I take pride in the fact that most men I've come to meet since then have somehow known I could handle myself pretty well. I seem to give off the impression that I know more of the world than I should; that I know their game. It's all a mask really and not one I wear deliberately. It's fared me well though.

It was the sound of splintering wood nearby as shots tore through the ship that really set my nerves jangling. My hands began to shake as I tried to direct the match that would light the fuse towards the touch-hole of the gun. In my mind all I could think of was how I couldn't bare to go through it all again, to watch men torn apart by cannon fire. The destruction and loss was not something I ever considered a necessity, and the sounds of it happening all around me were too much. I wiped my blackened hands under my eyes to get rid of my tears even though no one would see them due to the smoke. In fact, the smoke was likely causing the tears of others. I don't know how I carried on for what must have been hours. I must have stopped thinking at some point to try and make myself carry on. I think if I'd let my mind run away with me I might have collapsed to the floor in a heap. When cannon began to rip through the deck I felt the splinters grazing the skin of my arms and my face; was knocked onto my back in a daze every so often when I didn't move enough to the side to avoid the recoil of the cannon.

In one such daze I felt a hand on my shoulder. I gazed up at the balding man who jerked his head upwards and I knew my time was up. Bennett was sending me up towards the cabins. Maybe I wasn't much help, I don't know. I didn't want to leave though, knowing he'd be manning the cannon alone and at a much slower pace. Half of the bulwark was missing a little further down from us, with the men hastily trying to hammer planks of wood into place to cover up the hole. There were injured men still trying to help, and some whom were unable crawling towards the steps or lying motionless in the gangway. I'm not afraid to say I felt my stomach turn over and had to swallow back bile as I pulled myself into a sitting position. It was not the gruesome injuries that made me feel ill I don't think. I'd seen wounds and injuries of the same kind before and did so again afterwards. I can handle that, because I tend to focus on the fact that someone is hurt who may need help. It was the overall overwhelming feeling of sadness and a pain of the heart at such anger and resentment in the world.

I don't think I stood upon my feet all on my own, so Lieutenant Groves must have helped me to stand. Then he pushed me ahead of him down the gangway towards the steps. At the time I found it hard to comprehend why there was such a need for my safety. I kept forgetting they all thought I'd some valuable information hidden away that they could make use of. If I died, the fate of _The Crown of Immortality_ might therefore be up in the air. James probably thought he'd never find it without my help. It makes me want to utter curses now. I knew very well I'd no way to help him that I knew of, and I'd told him as much. Even if Jack Sparrow did have some information that he had failed to impart to me, I don't think he was ever going to tell me after what came to pass next. It appeared my allegiances were somehow beginning to change.

We made it to the stairwell in one piece, but the crescendo of one of the loudest cannons I've ever heard tore through our eardrums suddenly, and I think we both knew it was headed straight for us from the sound of it. In the fraction of a second between the blast and the sound of tearing wood, Groves had somehow managed to push me aside. He was too late to save himself though. The shot ripped through the side of the ship and passed through to the other side, making an identical hole. The ship was not the only casualty. Knocked off my feet by the force of the shot flying though the air, I found myself lying halfway up the steps. I still can't quite work out if I hit my head and lost a few seconds of time to blackness on the steps, or if I was alert the whole time. I didn't register pain at first, for the sight at the bottom of the steps took all feeling from me. Groves lay twisted below the bottom step, his legs at odd angles and one of his arms twisted beneath him. It was his torso that gave cause for worry though. There was a gaping bloody hole in his right side.

I scrambled towards him as he tried to speak and took the hand that was not trapped beneath him. It was an automatic reaction on my part. A less caring but more sensible person might have considered the danger of such a placement aboard a ship and moved up towards the upper decks. I couldn't do that though. In my mind I saw Mick being blown across the deck by that single shot; of how his remaining energy he had fuelled into pulling me down beside him to safety. I'd never been able to say goodbye to any of my friends. They were gone before I reached them. I never got the chance to comfort Mick, to tell him that it was okay to let go; to go and be with his wife who he still adored so much. I felt so much guilt for it, even though really it was no fault of mine. That alone had me shouting for help and staring around at the empty stairwell as if some form of linen would materialise for me to staunch the wound with. Perhaps there was a way to save the man, perhaps there wasn't. The wound was bad, but I was sure I'd seen people live through worse. Hadn't that Barbossa lost a leg and lived to tell the tale?

Taking my knife from my belt I cut away strips from my skirt and tried to cover the wound and began to press down, but one arm would not oblige. Blandly I turned my attention towards my upper arm, where a splinter of wood had embedded itself. Without any consideration I reached up and ripped it out, surmising that the piece of wood was small and the wound therefore would not be very big. It was only a hindrance as I tried to help the man before me. The noise from the gun deck remained the same and I was sure no man there would have heard the commotion outside. Just as I began to think I'd need to move myself to fetch help, there came the sound of footsteps above me as boots clattered down the steps. I glanced up and saw the flash of a blue sleeve. The gold trim told me it must at least be an officer and I felt a wave of relief hit me.

"There's help coming," I said lightly to Groves as I took hold of his hand again. I was glad to feel him squeeze my hand in return.

"Miss O'Connell?" The authoritative voice startled me and I glanced up again to find James rushing down the last few steps towards me, stopping short when he caught sight of his friend. I saw the emotion flicker across his face, felt his pain in that moment as he probably realised what I did not; that his friend was beyond help. I knew that turmoil, had I not just spent hours in the midst of it? It took him a few seconds to recover, but I think he did better than I could have managed given the circumstances. "What do you need?" he asked sharply as he took in everything before him.

"L...Linen? Maybe... water?" I stammered back, suddenly at a loss. My mind went blank and I finally considered the wound to Groves' side for real. It was not a wound to be sewn up. It was more a wound to be packed. If he lived he would likely catch a fever. I turned back towards James only to witness his boots as they retreated the way they had come. I clutched Groves' hand harder and bent lower so that I could smile at him. I was crying, even though I didn't know it. Afterwards I'd realise I couldn't stop crying. I tried for a soothing voice. "You'll be fine Lieutenant. That rather useless Commodore has gone to fetch some things and then we can help get you on the mend."

He seemed to approve of my joke. His eyes flashed as I spoke and I felt something tight grip my heart as his facial expression turned grave. He opened his mouth to try and speak and I made hushing noises, knowing he should try and save his energy. "No..." he chocked out. "need...you tell...need to ...tell...tell him who you are."

"W...what?" I stammered back, sure that he was delirious.

"If you tell...tell him he will ...he is a good man...he will protect you...from your uncle."

I think my heart must have dropped into my stomach. He knew who I was, and he was dying. In his last moments he was trying to help me, instead of thinking of himself.

"What nonsense..." I mumbled as I tried for humour but he stared stonily back at me, his face growing greyer by the second. "...The Commodore is a good man..."

"Yeah I'm sure he is on his better days," I agreed for his sake as I pressed down harder on the wound. "Come on now, stop talking of me and of him. When you get home to your sweetheart she'll be affronted if she finds out you didn't spend this time thinking of her and how you long to be back with her. The poor girl's not getting a look in."

His eyes flashed again and I knew he might even have laughed if he'd had the strength. "Lettice," he supplied thickly and I nodded.

"Well, think what you're going to buy this Lettice on your journey home Lieutenant. If I know you Navy men she's some over-laced chit with expensive taste. You'll need to get thinking about where you're going to buy that newest bit of lace for her, or perhaps even a ring if you're feeling so inclined. Us women like to be reminded that we're the only thing that matters after all! Not the sea battles and the sailing of course, but the lass who's sat at home crocheting a new cushion cover!"

He let out a huff that was definitely a form of laughter and he gazed back at me so forlornly that I was sure he knew I was babbling to try and keep his spirits up. "Over-laced is not far wrong," came a wry comment from over my head James loomed into view again. I didn't know how long he'd been standing there, more than likely long enough to hear our whole one sided conversation. "The way back up is blocked. I cannot force the grating upwards to reach the upper decks."

"What did I tell you," I muttered to groves even as I shot James a worried glance. "Useless. Your Commodore couldn't even find his own bootlaces if they were pointed out to him!"

Groves let out another huff that I was sure was intended as laughter, and saw his eyes flash again. "I can try below," James continued as he crouched beside me. "But may I first...?"

I slowly moved my hands as he tugged on the strips of my skirt until the wound was visible to him. It was only then that I took in how much blood Groves had lost. My mind flitted to the shirts I'd brought aboard from _The Grace_ and I jumped up suddenly. "I'll try Commodore if you'll stay here. There's some-"

His hand upon my bare wrist stopped my train of thought. "It's too dangerous. I cannot allow that," he supplied thickly as I saw in his eyes that he knew there was no helping his friend. Perhaps I'd even known it all along and simply didn't want to admit it to myself. Groves had been kind to me ever since the first time he'd ever spoken to me. Apart from Mr. Hawkins he was the only ally I had aboard _The Surgence_. I felt the emotions of loosing him very keenly in those next few moments as something within me knew everything was about to change.

The hard skin of the hand remained upon my wrist, pulling me back down into my sitting position on the floor and I allowed it, not quite sure if I wanted to shake off James's touch or not. Later I considered how I'd expected his hands to be soft. They weren't though. He was no Lord who gave orders and observed. His hands were the calloused hands of a worker, a sailor. He believed himself to be one of his men. You see, the first touch of skin on skin did mean something, even if I would later pretend that it did not. My opinion of him was to change in those few moments so much that our story would take a great turn.

"Come on now Lieutenant, you best get thinking of where you're going to take this over-laced Lettice once you return to her," I announced with an attempt at joviality even as I took in the crumpled form of the man I'd come to respect. "She'll need to open your gift somewhere public so she can show it off won't she? Don't ask me for recommendations though, unless you'll be wanting some sleazy country bar in the arse-end of nowhere in Ireland that only serves one type of ale and the patrons are all blind drunk on it!"

I'm sure he smiled then, a wistful one that held so much meaning as his eyes bore into mine. I knew what he was trying to tell me with such a look and I didn't know what to say with James sitting so close to me. The smile held even more than that, I'd realise a few seconds later.

"...J...James," he choked out a plea and I realised the smile was going to be his last. He knew he was not long for the world.

I glanced up as James stood to his full height and pulled his pistol from it's brace. "No!" I cried even though I knew it was no use. Groves's plea had been one begging for mercy and I scrambled round to stare at James as he raised his weapon. He gave me a jerky movement of his head without even looking at me and I should probably have moved out of the way as he wanted me to do, but something held me firmly in place. I do not even think James noticed that I had not moved. I saw the pain in his eyes again. His hand shook violently as he tried to aim and he took shuddering breaths to steady himself. I heard the catch click and then his finger curled around the trigger.

"No! No!" I cried again as the shot rang out in the torn apart stairwell. I shuddered as the Lieutenant's hand went limp in mine and then dropped. For moments afterwards there was still silence between us both. The only movement was the smoke gently unfurling from the barrel of James's pistol. It seemed as if the battle going on around us had ceased, with the two of us left in the throws of our emotions. James's expression was one of horror. Slowly he lowered his pistol, slackened his grip and let it drop to the floor. He backed up against the wall and slid down to the floor, his eyes not moving from the form of his friend who still lay at my feet.

My hands moved of their own accord then, closing the eyes of the kind Lieutenant. Then I began to pull his arm out from where it lay twisted beneath him. I straightened his legs too, so that it might appear that he was only sleeping. I glanced back at James and saw my own emotions reflected in his expression. We had both seen traumatic loss at sea that meant a great deal to us. It had changed us, shaped us. Now we were stuck in limbo, unable to process all that we had seen but still desperate to move on, to forget the pain we were in.

I glanced down at my hands to find them covered in blood. I was such a strange sight, covered in gunpowder and blood up to my elbows. My skirt was torn to shreds, the frayed ends trailing into the blood that pooled in the floor. I didn't recall the sight of blood from the day that Mick died, but in my mind suddenly the two images began to intermingle until they became one vision of mass destruction that left me trembling all over. I scrambled back sharply until I had put distance between myself and the pool of blood, feeling cool air rushing over the back of my neck from the gaping hole in the side of the ship. The air seemed to rouse me a little, and sound rushed back to me in that instant although it was muffled as if I was listening to the chaos through a closed door or from behind a thick curtain.

I glanced towards James again, who appeared to have also found his grip on reality. He glanced up at me with an unreadable expression but I thought I knew what was crossing his mind in that moment. He had just shot a man that he trusted; that he considered a friend. I'd watched Mick die. I'd watched him save my life as his last act before his death. I couldn't rightly describe how much guilt I held within me for what had happened but it must have been nothing to how James was feeling. His friend was dying, and he had eased his pain and suffering by quickening his death, but he had still shot someone he cared for. Perhaps if I had not been so emotional too I might have been able to say something to comfort him, to assure him that he had done the right and the honourable thing. As it was, I was too overwhelmed to even wipe my bloody hands on my even bloodier skirt.

I sniffed loudly as the tears came thick and fast. Wiping them away seemed pointless when I considered the state that I must already look. I glanced around me at the devastation the cannon ball had left behind in it's wake and reached up to finger the splintered wood surrounding the gaping hole to the right of my head. Before me I saw the brutality of men, and of the sea. Kat Devlin might bare the appearance of a woman and a harsh one at that, but her heart was that of a mans. She held no consideration or empathy. She would not have sat and held the hand of a sailor as he died; not even if he were one of her own crew. She would not have shown him the mercy of a quick shot to the head to ease his passing. He would have been immediately forgotten to her. It was then that I really saw that despite his slightly irksome temper and his moody outlook, James was for all of his failings a decent man.

I turned back to him and let my hand drop from the wood. He gave me a curt nod as those emerald green eyes locked with mine. Acknowledgement and acceptance.

* * *

 _ **So what do you think, should Fiona tell James who she is? Or should she wait a while longer?**_

 _ **In the next chapter we see the aftermath of the battle, and a frank discussion between James and Fiona!**_

 ** _I am very sorry for the character death, but I'm sure even at this stage you'll understand why it had to happen!_**

 ** _Please review and tell me your thoughts!_**


	12. Chapter Twelve - Trust

_**Thanks to the guest for the review! This chapter carries on from the last, and there's some long awaited dialogue between Fiona and Norrington. I'm really liking writing those two together as Fiona is obviously so uncouth that she's just going to say whatever she wants and James is rather stiff. They are two polar opposites! We might also see a little more from Mr. Hawkins!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twelve - Trust**_

 _Oh we've got to trust_  
 _one another again_  
 _in some essentials._

 _Not the narrow little_  
 _bargaining trust_  
 _that says: I'm for you_  
 _if you'll be for me. -_

 _But a bigger trust,_  
 _a trust of the sun_  
 _that does not bother_  
 _about moth and rust,_  
 _and we see it shining_  
 _in one another._

 _Oh don't you trust me,_  
 _don't burden me_  
 _with your life and affairs; don't_  
 _thrust me_  
 _into your cares._

 _But I think you may trust_  
 _the sun in me_  
 _that glows with just_  
 _as much glow as you see_  
 _in me, and no more._

 _But if it warms_  
 _your heart's quick core_  
 _why then trust it, it forms_  
 _one faithfulness more._

 _And be, oh be_  
 _a sun to me,_  
 _not a weary, insistent_  
 _personality_

 _but a sun that shines_  
 _and goes dark, but shines_  
 _again and entwines_  
 _with the sunshine in me_

 _till we both of us_  
 _are more glorious_  
 _and more sunny._

 _Trust - D. H. Lawrence_

It's strange isn't it, how ho something so heart-wrenching and devastating can somehow bring about something good in the world. I'd not lie to you and say from those moments after the death of the Lieutenant in the stairwell that James and I were thick as thieves or even that I readily admitted to liking him, but there was some form of understanding that passed between us that made me see him so differently. I understood he was a good man, even if he did make the wrong choices sometimes. His hot-hotheadedness could cloud his vision sometimes and I can be like that myself at times. There was also something there within his pain stricken eyes that told me I could trust him. He was not accustomed to the grief of losing his men. It was not an experience he would ever get used to or wish to go through again. He'd try his utmost to bring each man aboard the ship home in one piece. I began to understand in that moment that things were perhaps not as bleak for James as they had been when we first met during that hurricane.

He'd not given much thought to his men when he sailed into it, but it seemed that his mourning period over the loss of the woman that he loved to another man was over. That was not to say that he still did not love her at that time, but he was resolved to a future alone upon the sea, or perhaps he even believed he would die soon enough and render his feelings irrelevant. There had been a change in him though, for even in the silent moments that passed he seemed to take some form of hold over his grief for the loss of his friend. He did not ask what I'd been doing down upon the gun deck when his orders had been to lock myself in a cabin, nor did he question the dirt and gunpowder that was all over my clothes, skin and even in my hair.

When he had gathered himself his expression returned to one of neutrality, and he stood and approached me with such purpose that I couldn't help watching him in his long strides towards me. Wordlessly he held out a hand to pull me to my feet and I complied, sure that I'd meet the sharp end of his tongue if I did not. He glanced quickly down towards my feet and back up again, likely trying to ascertain if I'd suffered any injury. His eyes jarred though when they met my necklace. I didn't think upon it at the time as I was more irritated that he wasted precious seconds but later it did occur to me that somehow my necklace intrigued and enchanted him. I couldn't fathom why, as it was just a piece of junk. He'd probably seen the like of it many times over in his time upon the sea. He'd been to Isla de Muerta after all, so he'd seen far greater treasures than the one that was currently hanging from my neck. In my mind I put it down to him having seen something similar worn by someone who meant something to him once, perhaps even the elusive woman who had broken his heart once.

In a sharp snap the moment was over and he was leading the way up towards the upper decks. I don't really know why, but all sound seemed muffled to me slightly, as if the blast of the cannon had affected my hears somewhat. The voices we heard upon the next deck seemed clear enough to me, but as we kept climbing and the din of cannon fire and destruction grew immensely I had trouble discerning anything. If James was speaking to me I didn't hear it, and followed him as he finally reached the last few steps that would lead us up above deck. Someone had pulled the grating over the opening of the stairwell, or perhaps it had fallen into place. Something was wedging it closed though and I watched James from the bottom of the steps as he pushed against the wood harshly with his shoulder. His mouth moved and I understood he was shouting to anyone upon deck who might hear him and come to his aid. The grating began to give way under the force of his pushing and then from above someone must have heard him. The grating was pulled up sharply and James climbed another few steps to observe the main deck as light flooded the stairwell and with it the acrid smell of smoke.

I placed my hands over my ears, hitting them a few times to try and recover some form of sound. James must have noticed then that I was still behind him. If he spoke to me from the top of the steps I didn't hear and only glanced up to look at him when he retreated back down the steps to stand beside me. With a hand on my shoulder he turned me slightly and I was able to read upon his lips that he was directing me towards the cabins down the corridor. I knew better than to argue with him after what had occurred below and began to slowly make my way towards the cabin I had been assigned on my first day aboard _The Surgence._ I wanted to know how well the ship was faring, and a part of me wanted to help but I knew I should follow orders. If I had done so that morning, would Lieutenant Groves still be alive? I shook that thought from my head as I closed the cabin door behind me and sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. Groves was on that gun deck because those were his orders. He'd been stationed there by his Commodore but would he have been in that stairwell if he hadn't needed to escort me back up to the cabins.

I wanted to cry so badly in that moment then, but there was something within me that would not allow it. Perhaps it was exhaustion and weariness that told my mind I needed no other exertion that day. I could have lain back and gone to sleep I suppose, but I was still in the throws of the action, desperate to know the outcome. I knew though that I was stuck within my lonely cabin until someone came to fetch me when it was all over. I wouldn't risk anyone else's safety by wandering around.

It must have been hours I was sat there like that for, before Lieutenant Thompson came to fetch me. Darkness had descended by that point and we emerged out onto an eerily silent deck. There was a midshipman here and thereabouts but apart from that, the deck was deserted. The chaos of the day that had passed and really the chaos of any day aboard a ship seemed to be long forgotten. Here and there I noticed areas where repairs had been made, and even where they still needed to be made. There was no _Banshee's Disgrace_ or Kat Devlin in sight though. It was a wonder to me, that I'd managed to hear so very little of what occurred after I'd retreated to the cabin and I was sad that I'd had no part in it. I don't take to sitting by whilst others work. It sets my nerves on edge.

I gulped in the fresh night air for a few moments and lieutenant Thompson seemed content enough to let me. I came to understand that there was no great urgency for me to be anywhere, but I did feel some strange sense of apprehension about seeing James again after what had happened earlier that day. I did not know if he had kept his composure after he had regained it on that stairwell; or whether he'd come up against some inconsistency and flown into a grief stricken rage. At least, that's what I told myself I was afraid of. I think if I'm honest, I was terrified that having had time to really think on the days events, James might in some way have come to blame me for what had befallen his friend. I'd had the same thoughts, so I could have understood his reasoning.

When I finally descended into the gloom again and walked towards the doors of his cabin, I felt a sense of resilience settle over me. After all, if he did blame me what could he do? Throw me into the brig? I think I could have lived with that. Wasn't that what I had been fighting for, for weeks on end? He was sat at his desk when I entered the cabin, leaning over as he scratched something out on some parchment. He glanced up as I crossed the cabin, my feet stopping just short of the expensive rug. he appraised me, those emerald eyes gazing not at my eyes but into them for the longest of moments before he finally sat back in his chair. He brought a hand up to gesture to his ears with a curious expression on his face but I answered his question before he had time to ask it.

"I think my hearing is returned to its normal function now Commodore."

He nodded slowly and gestured to the couch behind me. "Please, sit." I'd not cared to harm his dainty cushions last time I'd been in his cabin, but that night I readily sat and did not give his cushions a thought because I was so tired. It was then that I realised he'd probably not ask me to sit if he wanted to send me to the brig for disobeying his orders. "Would you care for some refreshment Miss O'Connell?"

He was gesturing towards the sideboard behind me and I faltered a little, wondering why on earth he was being so pleasant. Even if he held no animosity towards me, I was not his kind of person and he was not mine. We were not of the same social class, nor were we in any way connected apart from my late Captain. It was slightly unnerving. "No thanks," I mumbled softly even as he stood and walked around the couch. I heard the clinking of glass as he produced a decanter and poured himself a glass of something. I heard him place the decanter back down on the sideboard and waited for him to turn and cross the room again but he did not. A few seconds passed before he spoke again.

Miss O'Connell are you aware that you are bleeding?"

"What?" I asked him as I turned to look at him.

""Your arm," he gestured with the hand that held his glass of whiskey.

I glanced down towards my arm then to see a tear in the sleeve. It was not a deep gash, but there was fresh and dried blood present. I recalled suddenly how I'd torn a splinter of wood from my arm down in the stairwell earlier that day, but I'd not noticed the pain what with everything else that had happened. My mind had been entirely elsewhere.

"I'd forgotten about that," I replied as I fingered the tear of my sleeve. His hand appeared at my side and presented a wad of linen to me. I mumbled my thanks and took it. I wound it around the gash as I watched James return to his desk and sit behind it again.

I considered his eyes then as he glanced over the paperwork that littered his desk. There was something so incredibly sad about his eyes when he was lost in his own thoughts, and I realised that sadness had been there all along. Granted, the days events would surely have made that worse, but there had always been something about him that was crying out for something more.

"My crew have told me," he began abruptly, "That you were of great aid to them down in the gun deck today."

I shrugged. "I know how to load a cannon and fire it Commodore. I've been at sea for what must be at least six years. I can handle myself."

"I believe I am aware of that Miss O'Connell," he supplied stiffly. "Did you also disobey Captain O'Malley's orders so flippantly?"

My jaw dropped and for a second I was about to unleash an angry retort but then I realised that would not help me in any way. "Mick O'Malley wouldn't have sent me off to cower in some cabin. He'd have asked for my help. I didn't have to disobey Mick's orders for more often than not, there were none."

I didn't know if I'd overstepped the mark a little, considering that my disobeying of his orders had inadvertently resulted in the death of his friend. "Evidently Captain O'Malley and myself were of differing opinions," James mused. "I would not think the gun deck a place for one such as yourself."

I was glad he had not used the word lady. I'd have genuinely laughed at that. No one in their right mind would look at me and call me a lady. I shrugged again. "Mick respected me, and he believed in me. He knew I was capable."

"I do not disagree with that," James supplied with a thin smile.

"I'm sorry, about your friend the Lieutenant," I announced after a beat of silence. I hoped it might bring him round to the line of questioning I knew he was digressing towards. His face visibly paled and I instantly regretted my words. I could think of no way to take them back though, or recover the conversation in any way. "Look Commodore I can't say anything that will appease you or make this situation any easier. I didn't follow your orders because I was going to go down to the brig to tell Sparrow and his friends what was going on, but I saw what was happening on the gun deck and I knew I could help. Lieutenant Groves agreed so I helped as best I could. I don't really know what else to say. I know I'm to blame, for he would not have been in that stairwell if I'd followed your orders. If I'd not tried to help then he'd not have had to walk me back to the cabins and-"

James held up a hand in attempt to silence me and I suddenly realised I did not want to go down into the brig with the pirates. I did not want to be caged as I had been before in my life. Although I'd not found much happiness of any kind aboard _The Surgence_ , I had been allowed free reign to roam wherever I pleased and I did not think I could cope being confined to the brig. I was very sure Mr. Hawkins would not venture down there to tease me and Lieutenant Groves would not offer me some form of work to occupy myself. He wouldn't offer me any occupation at all now; now matter where I spent my time.

"Lieutenant Groves was ordered to remain on that gun deck," James supplied thickly. "He was where he was supposed to be. I do not doubt he'd have ventured up towards the upper decks during the duration of the battle to ascertain how we fared. He would have been at risk wherever he went. There is no blame to be placed Miss O'Connell. That gun deck was just as dangerous a place as any aboard the ship. I am grieved at the loss of my friend. For the past lot of months I have been in the company of a crew that I do not trust. They are my men essentially. They are aware I am Captain of this ship and voyage and will do my biding. They have no allegiance to me however. Whilst I may be leading our expedition I am not financing it. They will hold their allegiance to that man. I brought my own seven men with me; the very same seven that yourself and your good Captain saved during that hurricane. Those seven men alone upon this ship I trusted. I am not fool enough to believe that Mr. Hawkins does not report back to his benefactor. Indeed I am not fool enough to believe anything I have been told regarding this voyage. The man who has financed it is not someone I am inclined to trust."

I could feel my face beginning to heat as James mentioned my uncle. I tried to keep my expression blank, lest I give away any indication that I knew who he was speaking of. I still wasn't sure what James's reaction might be if he were to learn the truth. I was still at risk of being spirited back to London to my uncle's doorstep.

"You will have wondered Miss O'Connell," James continued, "Why I stipulated that you have no fraternisation with the crew and I believe there to be a very simple reason. I do not trust the men of this ship. I have no reason to. For your own safety I wished for you to avoid any contact with them. It was also for your own safety that I ordered you below deck and into a cabin today. You do appear to have somewhat of a disregard for your own safety."

"I don't forget that you only have those concerns because you think I've got some sort of secret map to this crown you want to find Commodore. Since you're keeping me aboard until such a time as you find it; don't you think if I knew the information that you're seeking; I'd have just told you?"

James nodded then, his eyes meeting mine serenely. " I do believe that Miss O'Connell. Your actions today, in your aid during battle and also for your kind words to Lieutenant Groves I find that I believe you. Your words to my friend were kind. I cannot think they would have been so kind had it been myself upon the floor with such a perilous hold upon my life. Regardless of that, I see now that you are trustworthy. I should not have doubted that before, knowing how decent a man your late Captain was. Thus with the passing of the Lieutenant it appears I still have aboard seven people I believe I can trust. You Miss are one of them."

I think you'll know I was shocked to hear that. That he'd finally agreed that I knew nothing about his fictitious crown was a relief, but I was now out upon open sea with little chance of him turning back towards port just to drop me off somewhere. No, I'd still have to endure a journey until we found another port of some kind, and where did that leave the pirates? How was I to help them now that I'd nothing whatsoever to barter with. Even without knowledge of _The Crown of Immortality_ , I had still envisioned the ways I could use the suspicions against me to manipulate the situation. Now though, I had no leverage at all.

"You've come to that judgement rather quickly it seems," I replied after a beat as I knew not what else to say.

"The judgement will be reinforced if you can provide me with any details you may know regarding this Kat Devlin of _The Banshee's Disgrace_. It seems you are somewhat of an acquaintance of hers?"

I shrugged a little as I tried to recall all that Mick had told me about the Irish pirate. "I only know what I've been told from others really. I've heard none of this from Kat herself Commodore. She left Ireland when she was younger, moved to Scotland for some reason or another. People said she was banished from Ireland and sent away, but I've no knowledge of why that might have been. Scotland was not to be her home either though. Within a few short years she was sailing upon the sea and soon became involved with piracy. That is not to say she swiftly became the hell cat that she embodies now. For the most part I think she was still fairly innocent. She had Mick's respect for a while so there must have been some reason for it. He crossed paths with her often enough, and they seemed to get along. Mick almost watched her decent into the woman she has become now. Kat's dangerous Commodore. She'd kill without blinking. I don't know what triggered such a decent or change but I joined Mick's crew around that time. I recall seeing such a wild hatred in her eyes that didn't seem human to me."

"So you have no knowledge of any of her dealings?"

I laughed a little. "Commodore I don't even think Kat's own crew know about her dealings. She's shrewd like that you know. It's wrong to say it but as a woman I admire that thought process. There are far too many men in this world telling women what they can and cannot do. The only reason that Kat has got by as well as she has is by keeping her cards close to her chest. I take it she chose richer pickings today then?"

For just a second he shot me an odd look, as if he wasn't expecting me to talk such sense. "Yes, is that a regular occurrence?"

For the first time since I'd met him I wanted to laugh at his stiff upper lip, his bravado and confidence. All well-bred men had it in abundance, but they appeared to lack humility entirely. The Jury was still out on James. I wanted to think that being rejected by the one he loved might have taught him a thing or two about how a little reservation might ultimately make him a better man and a better leader.

"Commodore," I said with a sigh. "If Kat Devlin decides that she wants to blow you out of the water, you've no choice in the matter. That is what will come to pass. I've seen her change her mind so quickly though when she realised a grander target was close at hand. She's flippant and as changeable as the wind. She's not someone that you can second guess. My advice would be to try and steer clear of her. Once she's got you in her sights she's sure to come back to finish the job one day."

"Do you think that is what befell your Captain?" James asked suddenly as our eyes met again.

I felt as if my heart plummeted into my stomach then as I realised just what he meant. I knew of course that I couldn't be entirely certain, but in my own mind I knew Kat hadn't brought _The Grace_ down. It just didn't add up. It would have been much easier to place the blame upon Kat. I already disliked her enough to know I could hate her just as well. I'd at least know who had ended Mick's life if only I could blame Kat Devlin. It would not explain the man who had come aboard _The Grace_ and shot us though.

"Who was the man then?" I asked carefully as my eyes left James's. "He was no friend of Kat's."

"An opportunist who happened to come across the ship as it sank?" James suggested.

"It didn't sink though did it," I replied probably a little more sharply than I had intended. "We all saw it with our own eyes."

"It is an in-explainable occurrence indeed." James sat back in his chair, his expression a thoughtful one.

"See I think rather differently to you Commodore," I quipped with a small smile that I knew would not reach my eyes. "Us Irish see things so very differently. There'd be any number of explanations if I told my story back home; each as wild and as unfathomable as the next. They'd think all sorts of things. We have minds more inclined towards the occult and the tales of folklore and faeries we were all told as children. Even now my mind runs wild with them, but I will not tell them to you Commodore, because I think your fine education warrants that you must laugh at my foolishness."

"I do not think you are one to be laughed at Miss O'Connell," James replied quickly. "Quite the contrary in fact. I do not believe you are to be compared to anyone I have come across before in my life."

The intense gaze he bestowed upon me in that moment almost made me want to shiver. I tried for nochalance, feeling that I should end our conversation as soon as possible or at least change the subject. "I'm nothing compared to Anamaria who currently resides in your brig Commodore. She may be a pirate but she is not without a heart. I know that means nothing to you as I understand your hatred of pirates, but there is a strengh and resiliance in that woman the like of which I've not seen before and never will again. She's damned good at everything. I believe she might even crew a smaller ship than this single handed if she put her mind to it. I've looked up to her since I first met her; not in terms of her acts of piracy of course but because she is a free woman and I dare say Sparrow would have a fruitless task taking her to heel. There, now despise me if you dare. It doesn't change the fact that you know who the man is, the one who killed my friends. My description might have been vague enough to confuse anyone else but I saw in your eyes that day that you knew who I spoke of. You've kept that a secret Commodore, and I believe you will continue to do so. I do not know why, but I do think that's unfair. I understand that you've respect enough for my late Captain, so I fail to see why you would protect such a man."

I think he might have thought I'd forgotten about that. How could I forget that face though. I was certain I'd recognise the man again if I ever saw him, and if James knew him then I had more of a chance of it. What would I do though when the time came? My thoughts immediately sprang to Mick's knife tucked tightly into my belt; of the weapon I'd had to hand all along. I knew of course that I stood little chance against muskets with such a weapon, but wouldn't there be some strange sort of satisfaction in killing my friend's murderer with Mick's knife? The thought was in my head, as so many of us think of harming the ones we hate. It's not irrational to have such feelings from time to time. It's how we act upon them that really matters. No, I don't think I'd have been ready to kill a man in cold blood back then. After all, Mick was dead and nothing could bring him back. Little did I know that in time I would come to find some semblance of life to cling to, to revere and even to kill for if I had to.

James was nursing his now empty glass of whiskey. He did not appear perturbed by my line of questioning and I knew I was not going to get the answer I desired. "I think, Miss O'Connell that you will understand my reluctance to do so. How am I to be absolutely certain that the description you gave myself was entirely accurate. You yourself had been injured amongst the foray, and might have mistaken the events-"

"Are you saying I imagined it Commodore? That I hallucinated it?" I could feel the frissons of annoyance building at the base of my neck and I had to fight the temptation to stand.

"I am saying no such thing." James threw me a stern look as he leaned forward towards his desk and set down his empty glass. "I must simply make a judgement upon the information supplied. My judgement is that it is not yet enough to warrant condemning a man with my revealing of his name."

"So you do know who it was then?" I asked as I jumped to my feet, annoyance swiftly replaced by anticipation.

"It is not likely that you should ever meet him Miss O'Connell. For that reason I am inclined to believe I will not be witness to any reaction you may have if you were to set eyes upon him. That in itself would be an important inclination towards my judgement. You must surely understand the world that we live in. Your word, which is insubstantial at best is not something that would ever be presented against a man held in much higher regard than yourself or even myself. Without wishing to be abhorrent Miss O'Connell I am well aware of the temper of an Irishman when he is infinitely riled. I suspect that is nothing compared to the ire of an Irishwoman. Indeed I have witnessed for myself how your anger may overtake your rationality at crucial moments. I have no desire to pass on to you the information which may become a tool in releasing such anger. I could not have my word defiled in such a way, not when I cannot in all certainty admit that your description without all doubt would lead me to think of any particular man."

I think I'd had enough of him then. I turned and walked away from him because I was tempted not for the last time to throw something heavy at him. What I thought of then as pompous arrogance and a disregard for my word almost sent me right back to the way I had felt on the very day I'd first walked aboard _The Surgence_. I didn't want to go back into that dark place. Little did I know I was still there, wading though the mire of my turbulent emotions with no foreseeable way out. He didn't call me back and I wandered back up the dark corridor and out onto the deck again, only to have someone throw themselves into my path.

"Well Miss," crowed Mr. Hawkins as he made a grab for my hand. "On this clear and fresh night why not have a dance with me eh?"

He was laughing, and a little drunk if my senses were correct in telling me I could smell rum. Perhaps his mood was a little ill-judged considering the events of the day, but I did not have it in me to be annoyed at my only friend above deck. I smiled at him gently and pulled my hand away. "Sorry Mr. Hawkins but I'm going to bed. You should be too if your dodgy footwork's anything to go by. The Commodore won't thank you for the vulnerable state you'll be in tomorrow morning! Anyway, who says I dance with drunk men?"

"Oh come on, you Irish are always drunk! I bet you've never danced with an Irishman who was sober!"

His hands clutched my waist gently and I shook my head in mock annoyance at him. "Maybe another time eh? I'm not really in the mood and don't you think it's rather insensitive? Where did you get the rum anyway?"

"Why, your friends in the brig of course!"

My mind jarred a little, wondering why on earth Mr. O'Malley had descended so far into the bowels of the ship for a drink and of how Jack Sparrow had come to have rum when he'd been without an abundance of it for weeks now. I knew it was not for the drink that Hawkins had ventured there of course, but more than likely to ask questions. It was in that moment that I decided that perhaps I'd made the wrong choice in attempting to befriend him. His hand moved then, sliding swiftly up my side over my rib cage and I wrenched his arm away, my mock annoyance now becoming very real.

"Touch me like that again Mr. Hawkins and there will be stumps where your feet should be!" He snickered but his arms fell to his sides limply. "Actually," I added as an afterthought as I tipped my head to the side and appraised him. "That might be an improvement. You're not exactly much to look at as it is!" I pushed him lightly on the shoulder and moved off towards the steps down onto the middle deck. I didn't look behind me for fear that he would take such an action as in incentive to follow me. I was worried that he might, but I reached the safety of the middle deck with no tail, not realising that our conversation had been overheard.

"Mr. Hawkins," James called from the doorway. Hawkins was just watching the top of my head as it disappeared below deck before he turned to find James watching him. "I do believe you've been reminded on countless occasions not to fraternise with our guest. I do wish you would endeavour to follow such instruction."

"What can I say," Hawkins replied with a shrug. "I can't help it. She's got fire in her that one." With that he slopped off likely in search of more rum.

I like to think now that James came after me to ensure I got to bed safely and in one piece, but I'll never really know I suppose. In all likelihood he was more interested in what Mr. Hawkins was up to. Perhaps I did need someone to watch over me, for although I gave as good as I got in James's cabin, I was entirely out of sorts. The events of the day were not something I took lightly at all and my mind was so clouded with the images of what I'd witnessed that I never even thought upon the fact that I'd not retreated to the brig as I usually did. No, I'd wandered into the little cabin I'd been assigned and lay down on the bed as if I'd done so every night of my stay.

Sleep claimed me quickly of course, but it was to be a restless one filled with the screams of dying men and the sound of cannon fire, the blood of their lifeless bodies on my hands and the steely unmoving gaze of their dead eyes catching my own no matter how I tried to turn away. The dream changed though as I fell into a deeper sleep. Maps swam into my vision, ones I'd poured over aboard _The Grace_ as I discovered I'd seen them all before in my dreams. My hands trailed over the markers that Mick had drawn himself to track our voyage, my fingers coming to rest above a set of islands that I was so sure we'd never been to, so why were they marked?

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 _ **In the next chapter, expect another odd dream or two of Fiona's. One will be more painful than the others have been, and the other is going to inadvertently drop us right into a bit more action in a few chapter's time!**_


	13. Chapter Thirteen - An Uncharted Course

**Thanks so much for the reviews as ever! I feel like this chapter is more of a filler, and there's not really much story movement at all, but the dreams are important! Fiona gets a pep talk from 'Mick' and she also delves a little deeper into her dreams and uncovers a little bit more!**

 **On another note, after I wrote this chapter I actually typed sea monsters into google images; won't be doing that again. Maybe I'm a bit of a wimp but some of those pictures are the kind you scroll past very quickly so you don't have to look!**

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 **Chapter Thirteen - An Uncharted Course**

 _Cold hands. Cold hands upon even colder skin. The woman's feet no longer slipped upon the wet rock beneath her feet but remained still. something had her standing to attention, her back straight even though it pained her so much to do so. There was no doubt she was still trapped, for I could feel as she felt; and although she was cold to the very bone there was something even colder dragging her wrists upwards above her head. She cared not for it though, for something else had caught her attention. I didn't know what that something was, for all that I was able to discern in those moments were her emotions, so lonely and shamed, but also worried and frightened. The cold hand that had flattened it's palm against her stomach was not the source of her distress though. The hand was evidently not hers, but I could sense no other being around her. The hand began to move, encircling her waist and her eyes widened as anticipation set in. Her fear was beginning to ebb away as it was replaced by something entirely new to her; something she had never felt before in her life. Who was I to describe such a feeling, when I'd never experienced it myself in my own life. It was something rather special though, something potent. She began to turn her head then, and I thought for just a second that I'd get to see the features of the hand owner._

 _Something flashed before my eyes and I was no longer on that rock with the strange woman and the newcomer. I was in a cabin at twilight, with a lone candle to light the scene as I poured over maps that I knew so well. I ran my fingers gently over the coarse parchment like chart that I felt I should have seen a thousand times before. Even in my dreams I knew there was something there that I'd not seen before though. Before I knew what I was doing I was spreading the chart out, unravelling the ends of it so that I could see the full aspect of it on the table. There were islands there that I was sure I'd not seen on any other map. Anyone else might have considered it their own mistake, but I know my own strength and skill. Those islands almost seemed as if they might disappear when I traced my fingers lightly around their edges, but when I removed my hand they were still there._

 _"What do you see?"_

 _I spun around, not frightened of the voice but apprehensive about what I might be about to see. "Mick?" I chocked out, a sob rising in my throat._

 _He was stood in the doorway of his cabin, much as he had done so many times before. His almost black hair was swept off his face and tied back at the nape of his neck. his shirt was hanging open against his chest, showing an expanse of greatly tanned skin. I was solemnly reminded of how handsome he was._

 _"I know," was all that he said as he smiled sympathetically towards me. For a long moment I simply stared at him, wanting to reach out and touch him. I knew though that I was dreaming, and if I touched him he was like to disappear. After a long beat his gaze finally left my face and reached his desk behind me. He moved then, rounded his desk and sat in his chair in a swift movement so familiar to me that I wanted to stay within my dream forever. I didn't want to leave him. "What do you see?" he repeated at length._

 _He'd asked me that question so many times when he'd first considered that I might have some skill with maps and charts. He'd pushed and prodded me into long hours at that very desk, deciphering maps and charts. He'd even drawn up fakes to try and test me. Now though, I felt that even though his gaze was upon the mask, the question was more significant._

 _"What do you want me to see Mick?" I asked solemnly._

 _He nodded his head as if pleased I'd realised he spoke not of the map. "I can't tell you that Fiona. It's for you to see for yourself. I cannot tell one such as yourself what you must see."_

 _"I see no way out, that's what I see!"_

 _He shook his head. "That was a few weeks ago. You see something a little different now. You are not as trapped now as you were then. You have this before you." He tugged a little at the map and I glanced back down at it._

 _"Are you saying that what I'm seeing here might help me to find a way out, to find a way off the Navy ship?"_

 _"That depends," Mick replied evenly. "There are many choices you will yet make to determine your fate, but I do think you should recall these maps in times of need. Recall what you know and have been taught. As I recall you were not one to back down from your own beliefs or opinions. In fact I do believe they were readily thrust into my face on many occasions and I was given little choice but to go along with you."_

 _"He's not like you though Mick; the Commodore. I don't think he's as ready to listen. God knows what will happen if he does listen to me and I am proved wrong."_

 _Mick chuckled and the sound rattled around in his throat. I knew I'd not hear the glorious sound again. I'd not dream of him again and I fought my desperate urge to cry for I knew this dream for some unknown reason was important. "No," Mick said as he stood up again. "No the Commodore is nothing like me at all. But why does that mean that he should not listen? I sense perhaps that you do not yet know the truth, but believe me when I say there will come a time when you and that Commodore must listen to each other so succinctly. You will both have cause to listen even to those things that are not said. He will listen to you now even if he does not want to. For him there will be some underlying feeling that he must do so because there is a great treasure awaiting that man. Together you must help him find it, and it may take some time. You may travel the seven seas before you ever find it."_

 _"Mick what if I don't want to stay with him?" I asked of him even as he approached the doorway again._

 _He smiled. "Fiona you have little choice at this moment in time. You are trapped. Help the man to find what he seeks, and you might just find more choice at your feet. What you decide to do might just surprise you though!"_

I think it goes without saying that the morning after that dream I was in a sombre mood. Although I'd known all along it was a dream, seeing Mick for those rare few moments had upset me somewhat. I tried to tell myself it was what he had said, but I knew in my heart of hearts that he was right. I was beginning to see that to secure my own freedom I'd have to actually make an effort to help James. No, it was the sense of loss that I was experiencing all over again that had me meandering out to the bow of the ship away from anyone else. For such a long time I thought I'd always have Mick by my side to guide me. I was in over my head now, but I'd no help at all. I'd have to navigate though the murky waters of James's scheme on my own, but wasn't that what I was good at; navigating?

I knew I could venture down to the brig to speak with the pirates and that they would listen. I did not know how much I should trust them though. I knew Sparrow was a decent man, but he was also a clever one. He didn't show it very openly, but I knew that in times of dire need the queerest of thoughts would come to him, and he'd somehow manage to come out on the right side of things. I had no doubt that he'd throw a man like James to the wolves to save himself, but I was going to have to find a way to make everyone agreeable. I hoped I could count on Anamaria to help me there.

It was the next day before I felt ready to speak with the pirates, who were all eager to hear my tale. Most of them seemed a little shocked that I chose to stay with the Lieutenant rather than save my own skin, but I don't think pirates have any understanding of how one act of simple kindness can affect you so. It can change your whole world if you let it. Sparrow did not bat an eyelid at my mention of conversation with James but I could tell that it was something he was gravely considering. He would likely be wary of me now that he knew that James trusted me. It was when I came to speak of my dreams to them that everyone grew mystified. All except Mai of course, who was sitting only on the other side of the iron bars from me. She nodded her head here and there, as if in agreement with what I said. She knew what I had seen, and I didn't know if it was because she had touched me that day all those weeks ago to show me my future, or because there was something else about her that I did not know yet.

"But what might these maps be Miss?" Gibbs asked when I had finished my tale. None of them seemed overly interested in what I had told them of the woman I had seen.

I shrugged as Mai caught my eye. "Something or someone out there clearly wants me to know where those maps might lead. You will all know I'm sure that I've skill with maps and charts. I've never seen the like of those islands before but now that I look back upon the image of them in my mind, it's like I know them; like I've been there before."

"And 'ave you?" Sparrow asked as he pulled himself up straighter.

"Of course not," I replied curtly. "I don't even think Mick sailed there."

"Even more of a reason to tell old Norrington about them then," he replied with a smirk.

"How do you work that one out Sparrow?" I asked with a raised brow. "I'm reluctant to admit it, but since the Lieutenant's passing I've found myself quite agreeable to the sea air again. I don't fancy the Commodore shutting me up down here with all of you lot because I'm trying to direct him towards a mystical island that only seems to exist in my imagination. What help would I be to any of you if I were on the other side of these bars, eh?"

"You said the men were fools," Anamaria added rather slowly, "For seeking something that no living person has ever seen before. _The Crown of Immortality_ is not a chest of Spanish gold hidden in the wreck of some ship child. It is a dream and a wish. It is hope where there once was none." She stopped and took a long breath, her eyes glancing around her at all of the others ensconced in the brig with her before landing upon Sparrow last. Suddenly I realised just where she was taking the conversation. "To find the impossible, we must tread the unfathomable. The Commodore will listen to any tale as fanciful as the one he has spun you, girl. This is your opportunity to prove that you may be worth something to him. I am in no doubt that you believe what you have seen in your dreams. You might even trust it. Now you are going to have to trust this tale of a crown with the gift of eternal life."

"The Commodore might be closed off and repulsed by any other tale than that which comes from his King James Bible," Gibbs supplied thickly, "But Miss, that man bes more ready than you think to see into the beyond. He would not be here if he was not ready. don't let his aristocratic manner fool you."

I was surprised that Gibbs had caught the gist of what was indeed a fair and rather genius way to look upon the whole matter. It did seem right to me that James should be willing to plot an uncharted course to find his desire. After all, what he wanted to find was a mythical object with no basis in any reality. Whatever information I should give him would therefore be wrong. Unless of course such an object was in fact real. I resolved that I should deliberate for a while longer before I spoke my mind again, despite the warnings of the pirates that I was wasting precious time.

If Gibbs was right, and James was ready to open his mind a little more then did that mean I'd have to be the one to do it? I'd always believed I was a spiritual sort of person; or at least more spiritual than anyone else aboard the ship. The only exception of course was Mai but I was damned if I was letting a probable product of Tia Dalma before the Commodore. No, I'd seen the charts and the islands in my own dreams and would have to describe them myself. I didn't want to become a fool and a laughing stock, so despite the words of reassurance from my friends in the brig I decided that whatever I told James, I'd not mention any dreams or visions. He was sure to think me mad. I'd gained a little respect above deck since the Lieutenant had passed, and the Navy men seemed to have come to accept that I was a permanent fixture for the foreseeable future. They began to see me as a woman, a young girl with emotions and sympathy and a heart after I'd cared for the Lieutenant in his death.

It did unnerve me a bit, for it became abundantly clear that their new appraisal of me as a young woman would mean I'd not be permitted to do much more in the way of help than pulling apart some old rope. I told anyone who asked that I'd never so much as smoothed some butter over bread for fear I'd be chained to the galley stove as most men would think reasonable. The thoughts of being so squashed and manipulated and demeaned sent shivers down my spine. Kat Devlin would claw a mans eyes out with her bare hands before she let him even ask her to boil some water. Anamaria would throw her hair over one shoulder and snarl at the man until he scurried away to make his own broth. I was going to be strong in my refusal to aid the cook Mr Daly because if I entered the galley I knew I'd not likely surface again. As it was, I ate so little of the food offered to me anyway that it would be of little merit. They were eating well, being aboard a Navy ship, but there was none of the tropical fruits and herbs and spices that Mick had acquired wherever he sailed.

That does not mean I was not grateful, or that I turned my nose up at their food. The truth was I had no appetite. I longed to be able to finish the chunk of bread and slab of cheese that was set before me of an evening but even though it was the first meal of my day I'd struggle with it. I'd tear off a few morsels and stuff the rest into my skirt pockets to give to my friends in the brig or on the rare occasion that I was not returning to the brig that night, I'd let Lieutenants Thompson and Gillette share the extra portion out between them both. The officers were now most cordial to me, with Thompson and Gillette readily seeking me out some days to make small talk. I liked both of them well enough, with their sharp and crisp accents and pleasing smiles, but perhaps not quite as well as Groves. Gillette was the older of the two, and a little more like his superior in manner. Thompson was closer in age to myself though, and had some good looks about him when the sun was shining and his blonde brows glistened in the sunlight. Mr. Hawkins was present often,telling me stories and trying to catch me out with limericks and tricks. He was a fool to think I'd fall for any of them of course, because Mick had taught me too much.

Of course I know there's cause to say that a child of the age I was when I first met Mick should not have been allowed to hear such things, but it never did me any harm. I knew that I was with a crew of decent men who liked a laugh and a drink and a little giggle, but their remarks were in jest. Sometimes I think they even forced such talk so that they might prepare me for a day when I might need to grow a thick skin rather quickly. In all I felt I was well rounded to hold any kind of conversation I should be met with, but I had no cause to worry about James in those few weeks. He was still aloof and quiet, but now he would greet me by name as he passed, and sometimes I liked to imagine he gave me the smallest of pleasant smiles. I can imagine a lot of things though.

The weeks began to stretch out again. So too did my imagination. I kept it under lock and key though despite the constant badgering of the pirates in the brig. It's easy now to say that perhaps my trust was already wavering and that a new alliance was forming; or that some sort of feeling whether romantic or otherwise was beginning to settle over me. That's a lie. It was nothing like that at all. There is a turning point further ahead in my story when Perhaps those things did occur, and reader I will let you know when we come upon it. No, it was more that I was doubting myself again. How was I to convince a seasoned Naval commander that I had suddenly recalled from some time ago a set of islands upon a map that might or might not lead to his mythical crown? I'd have to make myself believable somehow even though James had given his word that he trusted me. Honestly, I didn't want to lie to the man for two reasons. The first was of course because he invariably held my life in his very hands; the second, well the second had more to do with the fact that I quite liked being respected aboard his ship. Even if they thought me some mad Irish wretch and pitied me I wouldn't like it. I weighed up either being sent to the brig and executed for piracy or being certified insane and loosing all respect in my head for quite a while.

The dreams were coming thick and fast of course. Is it odd if I say that some nights I felt like Mick was pushing thoughts and images at me? I tried to focus my mind after some restless nights, pushing all thoughts of Mick and _The Grace_ from my mind as I drifted off to sleep but it didn't help. I was still dreaming of the charts and maps, but I never saw Mick again. I don't know whether it was my slightly improved mood that increased the amount of dreams that I had, but I would also often catch snippets of feelings and I knew who they belonged to. The woman I'd felt and seen in my dreams was ever present although with little clarity. I did not mind so much though as I was more concerned with the islands and how they might solve my predicament. No, the woman was something I pushed to the back of my mind as best I could. It was as if I knew even after we'd sailed to the place on the maps where those islands were and no matter whether we discovered them or not, the woman was for the foreseeable future a permanent presence of my dreams. Hers was more of a personal tale to figure out. Somehow, that made me more eager to discuss her than the maps though. I longed to talk to someone. I say someone, I mean Mick. Mick never judged anyone. He was the kindest person in the world. I suppose I might have spoken to Anamaria, but I did not know if my secrets would remain so. There was little room in the brig for a private conversation and even if we did manage to have one, who was to say that she wouldn't tell Sparrow everything anyway. As for Mai, she still scared me.

James says now that I could have talked to him about it. I laugh at him rather vicariously when he says that. James was quite far removed from me back then I think. I was discovering some footing again regarding my emotions. My grief was still there and overwhelming, but being able to freely explore the ship and be regarded politely and without reverence was making each day a little easier to bare. James on the other hand, was sinking lower into his own dark abyss. He was becoming more obsessed with his end goal of finding the crown. desperation did not suit him well at all. I suppose it never has done. He says he was not desperate when he was chasing the hopeless ideals of Elizabeth Swann but I think he probably was. The fact that he says Will Turner's actions were rash and desperate in the beginning says it all. Like most men the world over, he couldn't admit his own faults or emotions.

As the weeks crawled by and we sailed nowhere in particular, I began to feel a curious sort of longing to see Patrick O'Malley again if for nothing else than to hear any news of home that he might have. Even though I considered my life in Ireland well and truly at an end, I still had such a fondness for it and for the people there who I'd known since I was a child. With Mick and his crew I'd still felt some semblance of home as they were all Irish, but I was beginning to wonder what it might feel like to hear an Irish accent again that was not my own. I wondered vaguely if James would ever let me go ashore to wander around a market there where I might just be in with a chance of hearing a snippet of home. He'd have to make port at some stage to replenish his supplies, and I began to imagine how I'd meander through the port town aimlessly, watched by those emerald green eyes. He'd glance away though, and then Patrick would be barrelling towards me and sweeping me up into a tight embrace as he exclaimed his happiness at my being alive for all to hear. He'd utter words of remorse and grief for his brother of course before he'd slip his arm around me and walk in no obvious direction, sharing stories as if we had never parted.

That would never happen though. For one, I was fairly certain that James wouldn't have let me out of his sight if such an occasion ever did occur. I was his passage to greatness and he wasn't about to forget it even if he did profess to trust me. I was also fairly sure that Patrick O'Malley had no desire to sweep me into his arms and hold me close. He'd avoided me at all costs since the one and only intimate embrace we had shared many years before. No, he was more likely to pin me against a wall with his hand at my throat and demand I give him any gold that Mick had left in my keeping before he died. It's never something I suppose any woman will understand really. Why on earth do we harbour feeling for men who would treat us so poorly? I knew exactly what kind of man Patrick was and had no desire to become romantically entangled with him once more, but even I had to reluctantly admit that he was now the only family I had left and the only one I believed I would truly feel safe or at home with. I'd have to find him, and to do so I'd have to find a way to force James's hand into letting me go free. I'd have to find him his blasted crown.

 _The parchment was cracked, as if someone had cleaved a knife right through it. I wondered vaguely as I traced the torn edges with my fingers if that was also some kind of sign. Was Mick trying to tell me that someone else had also marked those islands as their destination? I'd been preoccupied before, thinking of Mick as I dreamt of his cabin and his charts, but the gaping hole in the parchment forced me to look closer at the cluster of islands in the Indian ocean. The markings were worn and old, but I thought I could make out the Latin word Caverna; caves. Wouldn't that just be the perfect place to hide some magical crown? I'd have to make myself believe it, not matter how far fetched it sounded. Otherwise how on earth was I to make James believe in what I had to say? My fingers began to move again though, following the path I'd worn in so many of Mick's charts up through Africa and Spain to Ireland. I'd certainly travelled a long way, but I felt sort of pained that I'd never really been that concerned with seeing different parts of the world. I had the heart of an explorer, that was certain but I'd only seen those places from the coast. I'd met so many wonderful people from different walks of life but I'd never known much about the different cultures they had grown up in. It was a shame really. I'd been too concerned with the sea._

 _I forced my mind back to those islands in the Indian ocean, wondering if the cave that was detailed on the shabby map was in fact real. If it was, what might it possibly hold? The chances were if we sailed there, someone would have beaten us to it. What if I was wrong though? What if there were no islands at all? I'd be marked as a silly girl who had foolish notions. What I'd have given to have Mick's charts with me aboard The Surgence, so that I could lay them out before James and prove to him that there was such a place as yet unheard of. I didn't want him to just rely on my word because for some unknown reason I felt like it was all I had left to get me by. I had always been decent, and I didn't lie. Withholding the truth from James wasn't really lying was it? I was just safeguarding my own secrets so that I might not face gaol or an asylum._

 _I slumped back in Mick's chair and closed my eyes, willing my old Captain to appear just once more to offer me some words of comfort. Mick's reassurance would help me greatly, I knew. He'd never know how much I had cared for him, looked up to him. Perhaps my father who had no doubt been looking on from wherever the afterlife had taken him would tell Mick how glad he was that his daughter had found a home with a good man. Mick had been my second father, there was no other way to look upon it. I'd simply thought him a friend before, and I still anger myself that I took him so much for granted._

 _I lifted my hand from the table and let my cool palm cover my eyes as I tried to block out the candlelight so that I might lull myself into waking. My mind though, had other ideas. The air changed so swiftly it was as if someone had wrenched the whole side of the cabin away. There was salt on my lips, droplets of seawater splashing my already hypersensitive skin as I felt the air rush around me. I was with the woman on the rock again; or was I the woman on the rock? She opened her eyes and mine opened of their own accord, staring out into the restless sea. Her mouth formed a soft 'O' shape as she took in what lay before her. Her feet were slipping on the rock beneath her, and I felt the coolness of the water between my own bare toes as I too struggled to stay standing. I had no choice but to look, to gaze upon who I thought she shared her lonely rock with. There was no one else, at least I saw no other human being. The sea panned out before us, on to meet the horizon. It was not a calm sea, with the waves crashing against the lower part of the rock as if they wanted to claw at our very skin._

 _Then I saw it, the terror radiating off the woman suddenly abundantly clear. A grey mass was moving towards us on the surface of the waves, so large I was sure it's length was greater than that of The Surgence. It was something I can only describe as what you may recall from a book that told of sea monsters, yet it seemed nothing like any illustration I'd ever seen before. Grey scales and fins rippled as the monster moved, sending iridescent waves of colour down it's long back as it reared it's head. I caught a glimpse of the largest mouth that could swallow ten ships whole and spear them with it's long tusk-like teeth before I clamped my eyes shut forcibly. I didn't want to look into its eyes for I knew I'd see certain doom there._

 _My feet were slipping and sliding on the rock and I heard the ragged breaths of the woman as my own breathing matched hers. Then there was a noise. It was a man's guttural yell, so uncivilised and so exotic in such a place that it set our hearts fluttering. I heard the woman gasp at the same time as I did. something speared flesh and the sound was so repulsive that I almost gagged. A keening sound followed which could only have come from the monster. Then the sound of tearing flesh came again as the man grunted. I couldn't help it, I was imagining rippling muscles and thick, strong arms holding a powerful sword behind my closed eyes that I refused to open. The attack was frenzied but it was quick. In a matter of seconds I heard a kind of dragging sound as the creature began to slide down the side of the rock and into the ocean. The sword hit the stone with a reverberating clang as the man's rattling breath told of his exhaustion. His feet slapped against the stone as he approached. The woman and I stiffened, our breathing now wildly out of control. Somehow though I knew she was not hiding. She was looking upon the man as he stopped before her and drank in the sight of her. I could not bring myself to open my eyes as I felt as if I were intruding upon something wholly private. Then he pressed closer, and I could smell him. It was a strange scent, somehow full of horse even out upon the open sea but there was some form of spice there as yet unknown to me. It was a heady mix all the same. My head fell back against the rock behind me as I felt my own lips part in that 'O' shape. His hand was upon her stomach then, but why could I feel his fingers skimming over mine? They moved softly but with precision, tracing the plains of skin as I felt a knot tighten somewhere deep down inside me. I'd only ever let one man touch me there before, and he'd done it to tantalise and coerce me into believing that he'd always be around. This was different though, oh so different._

 _The difference was something that came from the woman. She was so entranced and mystified by the man that she was losing all sense of all else around her. She may be chained to a rock at sea but it mattered not, if this man would stay with her. I could feel the longing, the ache between her legs that was growing rapidly. I had the urge to open my eyes then and look up at the man, but I knew if I did I'd be lost to him just like the woman was. She seemed to be wrapping her emotions around me for I could feel them reaching every part of me. My own arms were straining against their bonds even though I begged them not to. I wanted to reach out and touch him just as she did. His hand began to climb higher then and I gave no thought to where my clothing was as I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head. I felt the tip of his thumb nail graze the bottom of my breast and my back arched, pushing me towards him. I forgot everything. I forgot the charts, I forgot the woman. I even began to forget myself. All I knew was the keen sense of want that had me sliding my legs apart as his knee slipped between them. His fingers moved again, firmly pressing against my skin this time. He took my breast in his hand fully. His thumb brushed the bud of my nipple and just as I felt my eyelids begin to loosen..._

I surged upwards in bed, the linen sheet falling to pool around my waist. Sure enough, I was still in my shirt. I could feel the beads of perspiration rolling from my forehead down my throat and into the hollow between my breasts. My back was soaked with sweat. I fanned myself with my hand for a moment as I pulled my hair away from my reddening face, sure that I'd never felt anything like that before in my life.

Even as I still felt the ghost of a hand cupping my breast, I resolved that I had enough information gathered to tell James what he wanted to know. I needed to get myself off the ship that was forcing such visions upon me. I stood on shaky legs and pulled the sodden shirt over my head. I quickly washed myself with the tepid water and rag I'd fetched the evening before and dressed again. I felt the need for some fresh air, no matter the earliness of the hour.

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 **In the next chapter, Fiona finally begins to help James Norrington and she begins to fight a little bit more for her own life and for the pirates in the brig.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen - A Long Way from Home

_**Thanks again for the reviews, greatly appreciated and it's good to know there's someone out there reading my story! In this chapter, Fiona's made her choice, and it's not going to be an easy one! James also has a rather unusual request to make of her.**_

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 _ **Chapter Fourteen - A Long Way from Home**_

There was a touch of bitterness about the wind above deck, almost like the winds that I recalled from back home in Ireland. Whilst it was no longer dark, the sun had yet to rise and there were only a few deck hands at work and a quartermaster at the wheel. There were no officers or mid-ship-men about which I've always found odd. Aboard _The Grace_ , Mick alternated which hours the crew were on deck for and day and night there was an equal amount of bodies above deck. I suppose it's slightly different as Mick wasn't always sailing in the safest of waters and there was always the chance that we might have come across someone like Kat Devlin. I still thought there might have been an officer or two awake to ensure the smooth sailing of the ship though. After all, the ship did not weigh anchor once the officers and James had retired for the evening.

The new found respect I had meant that I could wander anywhere I liked and faced no questioning or fruitive looks. The quartermaster acknowledged me with a curt nod as I passed him on my way up to the poop deck where I leaned over the railings and watched the whitewater forming in the ship's wake. Knowing that my decision was made I was keen to impart my information and get it all over with, but it appeared I would have to wait until James had risen. I certainly wasn't going to knock on his cabin door at that time of the morning because I wasn't sure what mood took him at such a time of day. I recalled with fondness how some of Mick's crew were unapproachable until around midday when they'd eaten and had a drink of small ale or rum.

I really was a long way from home; I realised as I glanced up from the whitewater and stared out at the ocean which flowed on until it met the horizon. There was no land in sight, and yet again I wondered if James planned to make port soon, because they must surely be low on supplies. Mick made port every few months, and I think the longest we spent at sea was three months in total. Mick always had something he could sell, whether it be cloths or jewellery or information. That was how he'd built up such a name for himself. No one ever had a bad word to say about him though. He never crossed anyone and if a negotiation ever got ugly he backed out or gave in. He was clever though, because when such a respect was earned it was hard to dispel it. People were prepared to pay more for Mick's goods or services because he was well trusted and liked.

That was something I missed about Ireland. Where I grew up, everyone knew everyone and there was on odd sense of trust about the community. No one liked newcomers but there was a reluctant respect for the English soldiers garrisoned nearby. They'd been there for so long and were often helpful in their own way towards the local people. It wasn't uncommon to see them laughing jovially as young children badgered them with questions before being hastily shuffled along by nervous mothers. I missed the friendliness of home more than I'd ever thought I would. Even when sailing with Mick and his Irish crew, we missed things so unique to Ireland even though most of us had no intentions of ever returning home again.

Perhaps I might explain it better; in that if you are ever far from home and you hear a voice with an accent so like your own you automatically have an affinity with that person. You feel connected by your place of birth even though you've never met. It's more than likely true for everyone, but I always felt it if I met someone from Ireland. There was always some form of camaraderie because the Irish are a people who have been mistreated the world over. Naturally we all band together in times of need. I really was a long way from Ireland, sailing on a Royal Navy ship captained by an entitled Englishman. I don't think my father would have been very pleased. He was very patriotic, and his distaste for England was only increased when my uncle was adopted and sent to London. I don't think for a second that he'd have been at all happy, but I'd kept myself alive somehow and was still poised for a fight should it ever come to that. Both he and my mother would be proud to see me overcome such trials, but they were not here to see it at all. Strangely I was alight with that. My mother had a nervous disposition, usually amplified when English soldiers would march past my father's offices back home. My father though would have enjoyed sitting by the fire whilst I told him about all of my escapades. It had been him after all,who had taught me to read at a young age and had told me such wondrous stories before he sent me to bed each night.

My knee twinged rather painfully as if to remind me that in a real physical fight I'd already be at a disadvantage. Not that it had ever happened, but I knew if someone where to aim a swift kick to my injured knee, that would be enough to floor me. It wasn't so much the pain because I was well used to it but rather the queerest feeling I sometimes got when I bent my leg. It was almost as if my leg bones were straining to pull free of their sockets. One strong kick might just unlock them. I turned and leaned back against the railings, placing my elbows on the polished wood as a brace to take some weight off my knee. The waters were still and calm as they had been for days now, but I knew not to let that fool me. Usually waters that were too calm would encourage a sense of foreboding aboard a ship. It usually meant a storm of some form was on it's way. I shook myself slightly to rid my mind of such thoughts. I'd seen enough storms for a while.

I stayed in my spot overlooking the decks of the ship for quite some time as the sun came up, feeling the warmth of it on the back of my neck when I pulled my hair away from my face and tied it all up with a torn piece of cloth. Yet again I was reminded of the sheer heavy weight of my hair as it hung suspended at the back of my head. I'd considered cutting it a few years before, when we'd made port and I'd been offered decent coin for it. It was no street pedaller either but a wig-maker with his own shop. That's why I really considered it, because I knew I'd get what was owed. I'd stood in the street and stared at his shop front for a long time, running my fingers through my mass of curls and wondering how I'd feel if I went through with it. I knew well enough that I'd still have a good length of hair that would more than likely still reach my collarbone and it would of course grow back, but Mick had managed to persuade me not to enter the shop. He said if I was so torn about my decision, I couldn't really want to rid myself of my hair so badly. He must have been right because afterwards I'd not really had any regrets. I had never wanted to do it for the money really, but it had occurred to me that it would be a waste to sheer it off and not get something for it if I could.

The ship gradually came to life as I stood watching, and at long length the quartermaster was relieved and another man took his place. I wondered how the deck hands who had been up all night would get any sleep with the racket that went on all day. I'd always struggled with it aboard _The Grace_ , but sleep did not seem to be an issue for my aboard _The Surgence_. I'd had some sleepless nights of course when Mick swam to the forefront of my thoughts as I lay down or when I thought too much of my parents, but I'm inclined to think that tiredness won out. I was more tired aboard _The Surgence_ than I think I'd ever been in my life. I wouldn't have admitted it back then but I think the stress and anxiousness did that to me.

As the first officers emerged from below decks I felt the first pangs of nervousness. I'd no idea if James would really listen to what I had to say, or if he'd pick holes in what I told him. He was an intelligent man if nothing else so I was more than aware of how silly my made up story sounded. I'd planned not to tell him about the dreams and for the most part I knew I'd stick to that plan but I began to think as I waited for him that it would make more sense to remain as close to the truth as possible. I could tell him I had a dream about maps and charts and that it jogged my memory. He didn't need to know that the jogged memory had also been a dream. I lifted my hand in a small wave to Lieutenant Thompson who stood on the forecastle deck and I'm sure he only knew it was me because of my hair. He nodded and turned back to the men he was speaking with, but our greeting had made another aware of my presence.

I felt James's eyes on me for a full minute before I turned my head his way, raising my eyes to his as if in a challenge. He seemed a little taken aback by such an expression but I held his gaze. His eyes reminded me so much of a colour I saw so often at home. Ireland was such a green country, populated by so much farmland and field and I'd not seen an abundance of that colour since I'd left. Then suddenly I was seeing it almost every day in his eyes. I narrowed my own olive green eyes as I pondered that thought. I shouldn't really have given any thought to his eyes at all for he was nothing to me but I told myself it was only that the colour intrigued me. It's too early in this story of mine for such romantic notions, but I'll say it because then you might understand the gravity of my thoughts. His eyes looked like home. I know it's sickening and not in place with how we both felt in regards to each other back then. It was a thought I pushed from my mind before I let myself dwell upon it too much. It was just a thought. I don't think there were any feelings attached to it at all but let's leave it in your minds as an established appraisal I made of him early on.

Whether he had accepted my challenge or not he began to move towards me but as he passed the quarterdeck, Lieutenant Gillette called him back. I sighed heavily as I watched the two men in conversation and came to the realisation that I might have to wait even longer before imparting what I knew. I turned again to stare out behind the ship at the expanse of ocean we were leaving behind. I had no idea where we were, I realised. I'd not paid any attention to that simple fact in all the time I'd been aboard. I was angry with myself for such a lack of attention. Mick would have been annoyed at me too. Now that I was feeling more like myself, more like I had a handle on my emotions I needed to develop a better level of concentration. If I wanted to get off the ship and go in search of Patrick I'd have to fight to get my old self back. Wallowing wasn't going to help me.

A body appeared at my side, but it was not the man I wanted to speak to. Mr. Hawkins seemed content to approach me when I least felt like talking to him. "Mr. Hawkins," I stated stiffly.

"Miss O'Connell," he replied in a much more jovial tone. "I do believe you've been up here since before dawn. Are you not cold?"

I snorted. "Cold Mr. Hawkins? You really have never been to Ireland have you? Back home this weather is considered a summer's day. Most of the time it's raining and overcast."

"You are not from the southernmost part of Ireland then?" he probed and I felt him move closer, as if trying to test my resilience.

I didn't move even though I wanted to. "I'm not telling you where I'm from Mr. Hawkins for I think you'd be the kind of man to exploit such information," I murmured in a clipped tone. I hoped he would walk away and leave me to my own devices.

"You've something to hide then, otherwise you'd be open with me. I knew it the first day I met you."

I threw him a scathing look. "A woman is always hiding something Mr. Hawkins. You should keep that in mind. It will fare you well to remember it. Haven't you teased me and cajoled me enough to know that I keep to myself practically all of the time. All you've got from me these last months is my name. I've my own reasons for keeping secrets Mr. Hawkins and if we are friends as you like to say that we are, you'd not question me so."

He moved closer again, and this time I did move a few inches backwards. "I'm just curious is all. You're not like other girls I've met."

"You can't have met many then!" I let out a forced bark of harsh laughter that felt foreign even to my own ears. "Most women like to remain coy and secretive Mr. Hawkins because we don't live in a world were we are free. We are poked and pushed and prodded by men all the live long day and if you haven't noticed, I'm an Irish Catholic woman aboard an English Navy ship with men that are all likely protestant and if that weren't enough; I'm here because I was caught on a pirate ship and have only escaped a sentence of execution by the skin of my teeth. Don't tell me I'm secretive! I'm just trying to keep myself alive! I think the only kind of woman who finds herself in my position and actually decides to let her mouth run away with her would be a foolish one!"

He took a decisive step away from me then. Maybe he thought I'd hit him. God knows I'd wanted to so many times. When he'd teased me before, it was almost as if he knew that I was not of a right mind. Now that he was beginning to see me break through the barrier of my grief he thought he could irk and patronise me into letting something slip in my anger. I quickly resolved to say nothing more that would intrigue him and fell into silence.

"Just remember who your friends are here Miss, for one day you might need one." With those parting words he was gone, and I was left staring out at the ocean again trying my hardest not to roll my eyes. I'd been right to believe that Mr. Hawkins might be a danger to me and I didn't like the fact that he could rile me so. I forced my anger back down again and tried to concentrate on my real purpose for being above deck so early. After a few moments I felt calmed enough to turn back towards the ship deck and my eyes found James and Lieutenant Gillette still deep in conversation, but James's eyes were following Mr. Hawkins as he made his way along the deck.

His eyes snapped to gaze into mine suddenly, as if he'd only just realised I was watching him. He nodded at something Gillette had said, but it seemed like he was no longer listening. I think he knew I'd something to tell; something I needed to speak with him about. He turned back to Gillette briefly and their conversation carried on. Then both men turned and began to walk towards me. My nerves increased tenfold as they climbed the steps from the quarterdeck and stopped before me. I think for anyone it would be an intimidating sight, to be so alone aboard such a ship and to be approached so early in the morning by two men in full uniform. Gillette's expression was a little disbelieving, but I couldn't read anything in James's face.

"Miss O'Connell," James greeted me cordially. I gave no reply and instead swallowed thickly. He says that he sensed my nerves but I'm not sure how true that is. He's a man after all. They aren't so good at deciphering the intricate workings of a woman's emotions. If he could do that, perhaps he wouldn't have spent so long pining after a woman who did not love him as he did her. He did anticipate that I wanted to talk though, that I'm sure of. "I wondered if perhaps you might have discovered any new information from our pirate brethren in the brig?"

I shook my head. "No, well that is I might have thought of something but it didn't come from the pirates."

"Go on," Gillette encouraged.

I struggled for how to phrase my words for a few minutes as they both watched me intently. It was like being some form of insect being dissected under a microscope. "What if I told you I might have thought of somewhere you might look for this crown of yours?" Neither of them said a word, still staring at me and I shrugged. I turned and addressed James, "Have you got any charts or maps? I could show you?"

"Has he got maps?" Gillette replied sarcastically.

* * *

I hadn't expected to have an audience when I told James what I knew. The six officers that he trusted were present, as was Mr. Hawkins. Gillette produced charts and maps and laid them out across the dining table in the captain's cabin but I didn't move towards them as they all might have expected me to do. After seeing Mick's maps in my dreams so many times, I was reluctant to look upon one that would likely be different. It almost felt like I'd be betraying him. What he'd told me in my dream swiftly came to mind though. He'd wanted me to tell James what I knew. James was watching me intently and it was as if I could feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my head.

"The map I'm thinking of was older than this I think," I mumbled hesitantly. "This has longitude and latitude so..." I took a few steps closer to the table and was well aware of every pair of eyes in the room watching me in that moment. I pointed to a place in the Indian ocean, still hesitant to touch the chart. "There should be islands here, on the map I remember there were islands out past Madagascar in the Indian ocean. I don't know why they aren't on your charts Commodore."

"Perhaps the map you are thinking of is not as old as this," he replied smoothly from the other side of the room. "These islands may have been discovered after this chart was drawn up."

I raised my gaze to look at him then and shook my head. "No, didn't I just say it was older? It was even cracked in places. I reached forward into the middle of the chart then and placed my hand over where I thought the islands should be. "It was also torn here, as if someone had pierced it with a knife."

"It was marked then?" James nodded slowly to show that he understood what I said, but I could see confusion marring his features. "Perhaps it may be some form of explanation as to why your late Captain's charts were taken from _The Grace_? Tell me Miss O'Connell, have you been sitting on this information for all of this time?"

I stared at him incredulously. I ignored his comment about the charts from _The Grace_ , because in all honesty I don't recall Mick's charts or maps ever showing the islands I'd seen in my dreams. "Do you think I want to be here?" I questioned him a little too abruptly. "I want nothing more than to get off this ship, so if I'd had this information to hand I'd have given it to you! It was just a dream I had about maps and charts, and it must have jogged my memory because I remembered these islands. I don't know why it seemed important, but there are caves there. Captain O'Malley's chart was in Latin."

"You can read Latin?" Gillette asked incredulously.

I rolled my eyes in a show of annoyance as I chastised myself for my slip of the tongue. "It said 'Caverna' and from that I obviously took caves. If deciphering that one word means I can speak Latin Lieutenant, then I can speak Latin."

"You've seen these islands Miss O'Connell?" James asked as he too approached the table and gazed down at the area of the map I'd pointed out.

"No," I replied stiffly. "I've not sailed those waters. I don't even think Mick ever did."

"Then we only have your word that they are there?" Gillette voiced the concern I knew they all had.

It was Mr. Hawkins who replied before I could. "I've seen them. Sailed past them a few years ago. You're in the right area Miss O'Connell, but the islands are to the north of Madagascar, not the east."

I felt my eyes flare a little at his criticism and I turned towards him sharply. "No they're not! On the map they were to the east-"

"But you've not seen them Miss! I have!" Mr. Hawkins replied. "Albeit only in passing and we didn't sail too closely but they were certainly farther north."

I turned away from him then as I realised it was only my word against his and he'd surely have the upper hand. "Do you think you could chart a course and sail us there Mr. Hawkins?" James asked in a more pleasant manner than I'd expected. I was so accustomed to him speaking in a derogatory manner towards his guide. It was a mark of how badly he wanted his quest to succeed that he was prepared to treat Mr. Hawkins with more respect.

Hawkins smiled grimly. "I'm no sailor Commodore as you've so often pointed out. Those waters are dangerous even for an experienced sailor. I should be the last person that you'd ask."

I saw a vein pulse in James's neck. He was antagonised by Mr. Hawkins even if he did not outwardly show it. "Perhaps Mr. Hawkins you might fetch some of the charts that are stored on the middle deck?"

Hawkins nodded and left the cabin. James moved as soon as the door had closed. He turned the lock in the door and placed the key in the pocket of his coat. "I'm sure I do not need to reiterate that what is discussed in this cabin goes no further. Whilst I believe that Mr. Hawkins' description of these islands is correct for the most part, I do not trust the man. We will chart a course and sail in search of these islands but Mr. Hawkins will be remaining aboard if and when we do come across them. We will not tell the remaining crew members of our destination as I have noticed that Mr. Hawkins tends to let his mouth run away with him. Fielding, Alden and Holmes, I'm tasking you with scouring any other Naval charts you might find aboard this ship in search of these islands. Thompson and Norris, take the old ship log books from the shelves behind you and birth yourselves in the surgeon's cabin as it's unoccupied. Mr. Hawkins should have no cause to bother you there. I want record taken of any unnamed islands in the Indian ocean and report your findings to myself or lieutenant Gillette."

The instructions were given in a rushed sort of determination and I quietly wondered why on earth James hadn't been checking the log books before I'd brought my discovery to him. I realised he'd been somewhat of a fool in a way. He'd been relying upon Mr. Hawkins who he did not trust to find him his fictitious crown until I'd come aboard with the pirates. He'd made little to no effort beforehand it appeared. It gave me cause to wonder then if he really wanted to find the crown.

James presented the key to Lieutenant Holmes as Norris and Thompson each took a stack of log books and together they left the cabin to follow their Commodore's instructions. I was still gazing down at the chart on the table, wondering how Mr. Hawkins could have gotten the location of the islands so wrong. I wasn't overly worried as we'd likely pass the islands on our way to where Mr. Hawkins said they were. Then I'd be proved right. I felt James's eyes upon me again.

I glanced up as he took a seat at the other side of the table and appeared to be processing his thoughts. At long length he glanced down towards the chart and then back up at myself. "Miss O'Connell, I appreciate that you've never sailed the Indian ocean before, but you are more skilled than Mr. Hawkins by a clear league. Would it be presumptuous of myself to ask you if you might chart us a course and sail us there?"

I gripped the back of one of the chairs as I stared at him. I was shocked to say the least that he would ask me such a thing. I knew he trusted me, but I hadn't thought it was by that much. Then I recalled that he'd asked Mr. Hawkins the same thing.

"Commodore I've never sailed there and Mr. Hawkins is right, those waters are perilous. I don't think even Mick ever sailed there. Besides, sailing a ship like this is a whole different kettle of fish to a small merchant ship. You're barking up the wrong tree."

Gillette approached the table then, and I was reminded that he was still in the cabin. "Sir if these waters are really so bad, then perhaps we ought to consider this journey carefully."

Even I heard the trepidation in his voice. The Lieutenant didn't want to sail into another hurricane, and I didn't think James did either. James was nodding his agreement. "We must find a way to sail there. Perhaps we might have cause to return to port and seek the help of a privateer who has experience in such waters."

My mind jarred as the worry of entering a port town again after so long settled over me. James wouldn't sail to just any old port, he'd likely head for Port Royal or even Port Elizabeth and there was the potential risk that some Englishman there might know me. An idea had been forming in my mind during James's deliberation but I'd been reluctant to voice it for fear of his reaction. Now it seemed I had no choice if the only other option was returning to one of the larger ports.

"Commodore aren't you ignoring what's right under your nose?" I asked gently as I leaned forward a little over the back of the chair.

Those eyes latched onto mine curiously, as if he was daring me to say what I so badly wanted to. "As you have pointed us in the right direction Miss O'Connell, I will endeavour to hear your suggestion but I cannot under any circumstance attempt to like what you are about to say."

He knew. I shrugged and blurted it out. "Jack Sparrow could sail us there."

Gillette gave an odd sort of laugh as he came to stand at my side. "Miss you do realise what you are saying? Of course you cannot! You have not enough experience of the pirate to know how dangerous the man is! What you suggest is impossible!"

"But why is Sparrow so dangerous?" I returned conversationally. I knew if I let myself get too agitated or raised my voice I'd loose all momentum. "He's sailed through so many storms and upon perilous seas. Hell, he even sailed through that hurricane that you lost the Dauntless in!"

I saw a shadow flit over James's eyes and I wanted to regret bringing his loss up, but I didn't. "How do you propose that I trust such a man Miss O'Connell?" James asked smoothly and I knew he was carefully controling his temper.

"Many a time a man's mouth broke his nose," I mumbled. "I know how aggravating the man can be! We all know he's a nightmare, especially when he won't shut his damn mouth and of course he's an untrustworthy pirate but he is a good sailor. He's the best pirate in the Spanish main. If the wind hadn't turned against us that day then the likelihood is that you'd not have caught us at all. Maybe if I'd had a few more seconds to fix that sail then Jack would have found a way to navigate us out of that mess!"

"It is impossible," James said as his eyes left mine and I felt a coldness rise in them.

"He's the only one I know that could sail such waters," I shrugged. "I can't help you any more."

"As I said it is impossible, Miss. I do not negotiate with pirates. Do you really think that Sparrow could be persuaded to do my bidding with as little talk as possible and not wish for something in return. He would barter for his own freedom. That is something I cannot and will not sanction."

I nodded my understanding. "You think he's the devil incarnate as you do all pirates. He's still a good man somewhere deep down inside. I think if you offered to release the two women in the brig he might comply. He cares about his crew. He'd likely still see that as a victory. Besides, the Chinese girl is innocent anyway, she's only here because I dragged her along with me!"

James threw me a scathing look as Gillette shook his head. "The Royal Navy does not negotiate with pirates Miss o'Connell!"

I snorted then and didn't care that it was unladylike. I felt my hands curling into fists as my anger rose to the surface. That had been my chance to help Anamaria and Mai, and James would still have had Sparrow in his grasp but he'd thrown it back in my face.

"You negotiated with Mick O'Malley! I hate to bring you this news Commodore but Mick was no better than a pirate. Just because he traded fairly didn't mean he came by his goods or his information in the right way. He had his fingers in all the wrong pies! He did deals with whoever had the money to pay him and he didn't discriminate. He was no saint by any means. If Sparrow can sail you to those islands and you're going to pass by such a chance you might as well all go home!"

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the cabin and down into the bowels of the ship towards the brig. I kicked out at parts of the ship as I went, causing shooting pains in bad knee. I wanted to feel the pain though, and the anger. I wanted to feel the rage and let it fuel me because it was all I had left. It looked like my stay aboard _The Surgence_ was going to be much longer than I'd anticipated. I had thought my willingness to provide information might have fared me well, but how on earth was I to attempt to negotiate with a man as stubborn and pig headed and arrogant as James Norrington.

* * *

"Sir I do believe our Irish friend has grown a little ferocious and hot headed during her stay," Supplied Gillette after I'd stormed from the cabin.

"No Gillette, I do believe that is her natural state," James returned as he folded the chart up. "We are simply seeing her return to her former self. In the weeks after her Captain's death, she would not have been so bold as she was just now because her grief had overwhelmed her. She intends now to fight for her own freedom. That is important. She will be more of a help to us now than ever."

He likes to think he knows me so well, doesn't he? I'll admit that when he told me he'd said that I did agree with him. I'd been far too taciturn in my months of grief aboard _The Surgence_ and in doing so, I'd let him get the better of me. He'd been taught the value of observation at Naval college, but I'd not considered that he'd been observing me. I thought I'd brought about some connection between us as we both grieved for our losses, but he'd turned that on it's head by recognising what I could be when I was entirely myself.

* * *

 ** _The next chapter is possibly my favourite one so far! There's more dreams for Fiona and rather strange by eye-opening conversation with a certain Commodore!_**


	15. Chapter Fifteen - Sudden Pleasantries

_**Thanks for the reviews as always! Icar372 in particular; I'm a history geek so I love stories on this site that are fleshed out with a bit of background, and I'm Northern Irish so it would feel wrong to have an Irish character in here and not provide a bit of history!**_

 _ **This is my favourite chapter so far! I think I wrote it at lightening speed! There's another dream here, and all is revealed! (Well, almost everything!) We also have quite a nice moment between Fiona and Norrington which builds the foundations of what I think is still a friendship for the moment!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fifteen - Sudden Pleasantries**_

 _I was the woman on the rock. There was no other way to explain how I felt. I must be her. How could I be anything else when I was alone on the lonely rock with her feelings and emotions. She was no longer with me physically, and yet she was still a part of me. My thoughts were my own and hers. I could taste the salt more keenly this time even in the air, feel the water lapping against my ankles as my feet struggled to find a grip. If I slipped I'd be suspended in mid air, for my hands were bound above my head. Somehow that gave me the determination to anchor my feet against the cold stone._

 _The waters were angry it seemed. The waves crashed against the rock so violently that I could see very little beyond them. I did not care to though. There was anger in me also. I was sad, because I'd been placed on my lonely rock by those who professed to love me, and I was angry because it had been entirely their doing. If they had not been so boastful, throwing me under the nose of every man I met; then I would not have been doomed to such a fate. It was the price they had to pay for their own indulgences. They had been forced to sacrifice me to the sea. It was the sea that was to keep me safe now if it so wished._

 _I had the oddest belief that it would ensure my safety. Even as I considered how lonely I was and would continue to be, I was not as fearful as the situation warranted. No, I was more angry than anything else. The ire of the ocean raged on, with the waves dancing higher as the spray dashed my skin. It was cold and harsh but strangely invigorating. I knew instantly that the woman that was now me had wished so many times to break her bonds and float off into the sea, to end the torture of waiting for nothing and no one. Her life was over, for who would come to rescue her now? Her parents were shamed for their behaviour, and to redeem themselves they had no choice but to give up their most precious asset._

 _The sea was welcoming, but as I gazed out intently the colours before me began to change. The startling deep blue showed a mass just beneath the surface, rising as it approached. A grey mass crested the waves and I gasped involuntarily, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the creature. It was greater than any ship I'd ever seen and I knew what it was, even though I'd never seen the like of it before. The great sea monster Cetus had come for the woman as her mother and father had been told. The monster hastened it's approach as my breath grew ragged, the sea not so friendly in my eyes any more. The fins of it's back were sharp and pointed and covered in scales that were grey one moment, then green or purple the next as the light caught them._

 _As it reached the rock and began to slither towards me, it began to open it's mouth to show the tips of what I knew to be great sharp teeth. I watched in horror as the teeth grew in size as the opening widened until they resembled tusks. I knew in an instant that mouth could swallow a whole fleet of ships whole. Then the yellow eyes met mine. I'd like to say that my heart stopped beating for that's what it felt like, even if it's not really possible. Those eyes were devouring me in a way that meant I'd soon be pulled limb from limb. Oh how I wished in those moments as I was unable to look away from it's glowing eyes that the sea had taken me. I'd have been spared the torment and the pain of a terrible death. Perhaps the sea was not keeping me safe after all, but luring me into a false sense of security._

 _The rock made a noise. It was so distinctive that I was finally able to tear my gaze from the creature. Metal against rock; how was it possible? The chains above my head scraped and jingled against the rock behind me, but the new sound was a definitive clang. The clang of a sword. Then from nowhere a man was stood before me, facing the sea monster with a determination that rivalled the sea. The yell that tore from his lips left me in no doubt that he was strong, but the one thing I wanted was to see his face and I could not. He had his back to me, and his brown hair was flattened against his head by a crown of laurel. The clothes he wore were not clothes, but a pale piece of expensive cloth draped over one shoulder and pinned with a broach here and there and a belt about his hips. A burgundy cloak draped over one shoulder and sheltered him from the worst of the sea spray. His feet did not slip on the rock as mine did, and encased in leather sandals they stood strong and firm. In both hands he clutched a golden sword, his knees bent and poised for the fight. He briefly stepped backwards, and my senses were assaulted with the scent of horse and some form of warm spice. There was something else there too though, something I'm sure my own mind wanted me to smell. There was the smell of soap, and of that white paste that men used to shave. I could smell starch, the kind that was used in the stiffening of shirt collars. There was wool there too, the clean and fresh scent of a new woollen coat._

 _He yelled again as he charged, and my heart fluttered. His sound was so full of life and fight that it was alien to me on my lonely rock. I was transfixed as his blade made contact with the skin of the beast and I marvelled at the strength of his upper arms as he forced the sword into flesh. The repulsive sound did not phase him, but I winced even as he drew his sword back to ready it for another blow. The creature moaned and the man struck again, letting out a grunt as yet again his blade speared flesh. My gaze caught upon those strong hands clutching the hilt of the magnificent sword. They were harsh and brutal, capable of exacting such force and pain but they did not frighten me. Even as I wondered if the hands might also cause me pain, I still wanted them upon my skin._

 _The man made more sharp thrusts and cuts with his sword as the creature began to retreat, slowly sliding from the rock and down into the murky depths again. The sword clanged against the stone as the man dropped it. He was breathing heavily, his limps dragging tiredly as exhaustion set in. Then he turned; he turned and I think perhaps the whole world might have fallen apart and readjusted itself before me. All other thoughts left my head as I stared into eyes the colour of emeralds that seemed to see right through to my soul. The face that I recognised was unreadable as it had so often been before as he began to approach. Panic set in a little, but not because I was afraid of him. I was simply so confused that I could not comprehend what I was seeing, and my mind was losing it's grip of sanity._

 _I stiffened as he came within touching distance and stopped to stare down at me. My heart was beating wildly and my breath came in short and sharp bursts. Perhaps that was what drew his gaze lower. His eyes roved over every part of me slowly, as if he wanted to drink all of me in before he returned his eyes to my face. When he did, my mouth fell open in shock. His eyes burned into mine with such intensity that I was left in no doubt of the thoughts forming in his mind. He stepped closer again, so that he was almost pressed against me and I breathed in his scent more fully, appreciating all of the layers and the added slight hint of cologne I was sure was there too. My head fell back then and my jaw slackened as his palm rested flat against the plains of my stomach. They brushed gently and precisely over my hips and up towards my rib cage and a knot began to form somewhere much lower down. My mind flitted to Patrick O'Malley swiftly, who had been the only other being to ever touch me there. He had taken what he wanted and desired purely from greed and even in the heat of the moment I could tell the difference between Patrick and the man before me._

 _How could he be here; in my dreams? How could he be saving my life, be touching me this way when he was so cold and unreachable to me? I did not think I'd ever seen him truly smile in all those months and now he was here, driving me wild with just the touch of his fingertips. He was handsome of course, but there was something else to his looks out here on the rock. Without the powdered wig and the carefully straight laced uniform he seemed untameable; free. Perhaps that freedom I saw in his eyes then was what did it, what sent me spiralling over the edge. The freedom within him was astounding, mesmerising. My rock would perhaps not be so lonely if he'd agree to stay with me, perhaps even chained as I was his company would make me free also. I wanted that freedom he possessed, that heady aroma of power and liberty that was making my knees so weak I could barely stand._

 _I felt a strange sensation then, as if something was growing within me, aching between my legs as my desire grew. I let my legs fall apart and strained against the chains that bound me as I raised my head and met his eyes again. His hands were now clutching my waist on either side and I begged with my eyes for him to pursue the path he was so desperate to embark upon. He drew in his own stilted breath, as if in anticipation and then his hand began to move again, painting its way up my rib cage until I could feel the very tips of his fingers brushing against the bottom of my breast. He must have known such a touch had affected me, for as my eyes rolled back into my head I sensed his smile. I thrust my whole body forward into him, and my breast fell into the palm of his hand. I made a noise unlike anything I've ever made before. It was somewhere between a groan and a mewl. I'd never felt anything like it before, and I didn't want it to stop. His hands that had been so full of anger and force only moments before, so capable of destruction were now so gentle and loving. His grip tightened on my breast and suddenly I wanted the pain. I wanted him to hold me not as a precious stone or flower but as he held his sword. I wanted him to hold me as an extension of his own self. I wanted to be part of him, at one with him._

 _His knee pressed in between my legs has he moved closer still and his thumb grazed the bud of my nipple. I lost all control. I lurched forward as far as my bonds would allow me and he took it as consent, his lips crashing onto mine with the force and the power that I'd so needed. He pulled me against him, my bare breasts rubbing against the soft material of his tunic. His tongue reached out to skirt my lips and I gave him entrance without thinking. The kiss grew hungrier, his mouth devouring mine as his hands skimmed over the skin of my body. I wanted to touch him too. I strained against the chains that held me, feeling them smarting my skin as I pulled._

 _He sensed my urgency and moved back a little, his smile of reassurance telling me that he was going nowhere. He raised his sword and tore through the chains as if they were but paper. I was in his arms before the chains hit the rock at my feet, my arms around his neck as he kissed me again. It was fast and greedy, and I felt my arms begin to wain as the affect of them being upright for so long began to take it's toll. I felt myself grow slack in his arms, sure that he would hold me tightly. I leaned in as he ended the kiss and rested my head in the crook of his neck and closed my eyes. The sea had protected me. I had brought him to me. I drank in the smell of him even as I felt him fidget for a second, then his cloak was around me and I was in his arms. He took me with him, away from the lonely rock and all the sadness and torment of my past, and into a new world._

I woke with a start, my head bouncing off the floor of the brig where I lay on my side. I stared into the holding cell towards _The Black Pearl_ crew but as far as I could tell they were all sleeping soundly. I felt my face flush with embarrassment even though no one had borne witness to what I'd seen in my dreams. I squirmed a little though as I recalled that perhaps Mai would see it. I tried to placate myself though by remembering she spoke very little English; certainly not enough to explain in detail what I'd just seen. It had spooked me alright, to think I was capable of such thoughts even in my sleep. Women had been killed for less after all. They were tried as witches for having salacious thoughts, but a good question to be asked is how on earth do you prove someone's thoughts if they do not speak of it? That's what I was going to do. I was going to speak of what I'd just seen to no one and pray that James gave me a wide birth for a day or two so that I might banish such images from my mind.

I huffed and began to shift myself into a more comfortable position to try and get back to sleep. I rolled over onto my other side and right in front of my face were a pair of black boots. The yell died in my throat as I quickly glanced up and saw the very man from my dream. James was stood over me with a lantern in one hand, uniform still straight and wig still in place. Evidently he had not yet been to bed. He jerked his head in the direction I thought the stairs were in and turned on his heel and left the brig. My brows almost met as I frowned at him from where I lay.

"Please God tell me I didn't talk in my sleep," I muttered as I raised myself into a sitting position. It was then that I realised I'd slept on the shoulder that had been shot months before. It gave me no issue at all really, but I knew I shouldn't have slept on that side. I rolled it backwards and forwards a little as I pulled myself up and began to amble around in the darkness to follow James out of the brig. Still half asleep it took me rather longer to reach the main deck than it had James. By the time I got there my knee was locking and unlocking each time I tried to bend it. As I approached him I forced myself to walk normally even though it was painful and schooled my pain into an expression of annoyance at having been woken at such an hour. James was standing by the railing, staring out at the black mass of water and the indigo sky.

"What's all this in aid of?" I asked when he did not immediately speak.

He gave me that grim sort of smile that I've come to recognise as something that he does when he does not wish to smile at all. "I believe, Miss O'Connell that you were right earlier today. I think you will already have known that I believed that though. You are shrewd enough to be aware that this whole voyage for myself has been one dilemma after another."

"And this couldn't have waited until morning Commodore?" I asked a little despondently as I leaned against the railing, all of my weight being pushed into my good leg and my arms.

His eyes glanced around the empty deck quickly and I was again reminded of how differently things were done aboard Navy ships. There was a man in the crows nest far above us who would not hear us unless we shouted, and a man at the ship's wheel who I shortly after recognised as Lieutenant Thompson. "You know of my distrust of my crew Miss O'Connell. I thought the topic of conversation one that should be overheard by as few as possible. Not all of the crew will understand my reasoning tonight, and I'll likely face questions upon the morrow when I take action. You were right as I said, in that perhaps the only man available to us right now who might sail us in search of these cavernous islands is Jack Sparrow. That is; if you still believe yourself incapable?"

"I could navigate my way there without issue Commodore, but it's the seas I'm unsure of. We all know they're treacherous. I don't want the ship's fate and the lives aboard it in my hands. That's too much to ask of me."

He nodded slowly. "You are honest at least, Miss O'Connell. As you have been all along." I felt a pang of nerves in my stomach. If he found out I'd only dreamt of the islands, he'd turn me into a laughing stock. "Do you really believe Sparrow is capable of sailing us to these islands without playing out his own ulterior motives? Can he be trusted?"

I laughed lightly. "You know Commodore, I might have said no a few months ago. Thing is, the man owed Mick and myself money. He gave me some of that money and I took passage aboard his ship as part payment. He could have killed me in Tortuga but instead he gave me what I asked for. I think Jack Sparrow will be trustworthy as long as we pander to him a little. He seeks the crown too, so if he believes you're willing to let him sail us in search of it I think he'll comply. He will try to negotiate though."

"Yes I'm aware of that," agreed James. "As I said this morning, I cannot allow him to go free. I have fought long and hard to capture him. I will not give him up that easily, not even for immortality." He gave me a quipped smile then, as if he thought he was being ironic.

I wanted to roll my eyes at him desperately, but I remembered just who he was. "Commodore maybe you should think on what I said about the women then? Mai shouldn't even be here anyway and Anamaria-"

"Yes you appear to have some strange affinity with the lady pirate do you not?" He leaned against the railing too, so that our elbows were almost touching.

His face was much closer to mine now. I took the chance to sneak a glance at him as he stared out at the water. I'd never considered him ugly before my dream, but I suppose I'd not looked at him appreciatively either. Not until my dream. Oddly, I did not feel embarrassed as I'd thought I would. He did not know of it, and would never know. In my dream he had been so alive, those eyes so full of a green fire and a body ready and willing for the fight. Beneath the powdered wig and uniform he was still the same man, I realised. I'd simply not seen it before. Now I could agree that he was handsome in his own way, although much more so without the wig. He was somehow out of place to me from then on. He was no longer just a Navy man. He was a figment of my dreams and fantasies, and so much more.

I shrugged as I realised he was waiting for an answer. "Well... would you rather that it was Kat Devlin I admired? The murdering witch who'd probably sell her own mother for a few coins. Anamaria isn't like that. I don't doubt she's killed in the past, don't get me wrong. She's never done it in cold blood though. It's either been them or her. It's been in the heat of battle, or to preserve her own life. I don't know much about her life, but I reckon it's been a hard one. She's still standing strong though, making a life for herself."

"A dishonest life," James stated blandly as he quirked an eyebrow.

"We can't all be saints Commodore. The rich take most of those places. The rest of us have to make do with what we can find. A life at sea for me is the only life I'd have, and I think it's the same for Anamaria. It's easy enough to fall in with the wrong crowd though. I was lucky to sail with Mick, I'm well aware of that. When I first met Anamaria she was sailing aboard a ship much like Mick's. She was captained by a privateer who of course conducted his own dodgy dealings. Things can go wrong for women aboard ships though. We're not often afforded the same respect as men. I remember Anamaria telling me she had to get off that ship. She wouldn't tell me why but I got the feeling she'd no choice in the matter. She got off it though, and found her own way. Mick offered to let her sail with us when he found out what had happened but by then she'd already been consorting with pirates. She liked Mick well enough to know she'd only bring him down with us if she sailed aboard _The Grace_ , so she declined the offer. She's looked out for me from time to time. Meeting other women on the sea is usually a happy occurrence. We tend to band together in support of one another because lets face it, we've enough men trying to trample all over us without adding other women into that mix. Most are friendly enough in passing, and if we come across any of them I'd say my presence might get you out of a tight spot Commodore. Kat Devlin is the exception to such rule. She's just evil."

He was quiet for a few moments, but the silence wasn't awkward. I actually felt like he'd listened to what I said, and was processing my words. He turned towards me then. "I cannot pretend to have any understanding of what speak Miss O'Connell, but I understand desperation all too well. The wish to remove oneself from a bleak path of life and discover another. I understand that desperation very well indeed. Perhaps Our meeting has enabled me to think differently upon some matters. Whilst I still believe in upholding the law, and that all pirates whether male or female must face punishment, I am inclined to believe that unmitigating circumstances may force a woman to behave in a way that she would not normally choose. Anger and desperation, perhaps even the preservation of life where a woman is concerned may force her to do the unthinkable. Consider my eyes opened Miss O'Connell. I'm afraid I still believe piracy to be a crime though."

"I wouldn't expect any different from you to be honest Commodore. We were both brought up to believe our bread had to be earned. I know some English people take a rather dim view of the Irish, but we aren't all that different. I never thought I'd be bartering with pirates or covering up Mick's slightly more shady trades. It wasn't a path I chose. Like I said, I was lucky to stumble upon Mick's ship. It might have saved me from a more wretched life. Hell, it might have even saved my life altogether."

"you're a runaway." It was said without preamble or praise. There was no surprise in the statement either. Briefly I panicked as it came to my mind that Lieutenant Groves might have said something to his superior after all. Then I remembered that when he had lain dying, he had encouraged me to tell James the truth. He'd wanted me to do it for myself. I let out a little forced sigh of relief that didn't really ease my worry any. Even if James didn't know the whole truth, he'd still managed to decipher enough about me. How long would it be before he learned the rest? "There is no shame in it," he continued after a beat. "You said that a life at sea was the only one you'd have. To myself that smacks rather of bitterness Miss O'Connell!"

"Bit...b...bitterness?" I stammered as I turned my whole body to face him.

"You did not chose the life you currently lead. That is evident. I rather thought there was a bitterness about you that you'd had your previous life in Ireland taken from you. No one runs from their life if they are content, that is what I've learned over the years. There is this wonderful sort of pretence about life at sea that involves adventure and riches. It is supposed to be a lure of some kind, but no one ever falls for that. Desperation is why people run. Perhaps lack of money would be some kind of stimulation..."

"Stimulation? You really are in touch with the common man Commodore!" I exclaimed sarcastically. " You're right in that a life at sea is an act of desperation. No money is certainly a desperate thing. In Ireland though, people don't equate a life at sea as a solution for money problems. You should know well enough how many Irish ships are robbed even by the Navy. We can't keep money much at all. We either spend it on drink or someone takes it from us. No, there are easier ways to earn money in Ireland. As for adventure, I suppose I can say I've had some of that. It was all down to my Captain though and a crew of decent men. I'd say Sparrow's life has been one big adventure also. There's another one who will never really comprehend real and true desperation. His head's too full of hot hair to consider the greater picture. Trust me Commodore, I'm not bitter. I had no choice but to take my leave of the land. Money and adventure were the least of my worries at the time. I'm not bitter. Maybe I am angry, but not because I was forced to leave."

When he didn't immediately answer I opened my mouth to reply, but the fact that he was watching me intently made me stall. His eyes were so curious. He wanted to know my story from beginning to end, I could tell.

"I will not ask your reason for leaving Miss, for I would not wish you to incriminate yourself. Do not misunderstand me. I appreciate all that you have said and understand that you were desperate. I believe that you think I am mocking you. I am not, it was merely an observation."

There was no anger in his voice, and I even thought I detected sympathy there, which I did not want at all. "Incriminate myself? Yes that's the automatic assumption isn't it? That we're all scrounging louts who'd steal their mother's own crucifix if it weren't tied down. I'm not some specimen you know, for you to observe and learn the ways of the lesser man. I'm not here to be poked and prodded so that you might better understand why people like myself run from their lives. I..."

I'd intended to carry on, but some movement of his head stopped me. An expression crossed his face as he gazed at me then, that I still remember vividly now. It was as if he was seeing me for the first time. Perhaps it was how I looked upon him as he hovered over me in the brig a short while ago, when I'd just woken from my dream of him.

"Forgive me Miss O'Connell, but I do not recall ever condemning you for any crime. Evidently there are secrets about your own past that you wish to keep to yourself. Not one here will ask you to divulge them, except perhaps Mr. Hawkins but I think you have already discerned for yourself that he is not to be trusted." He smiled a gentle smile and it stunned me for a moment. He was far more handsome when he smiled properly. It was enough to take any annoyance of him away.

I sighed heavily and laughed a little. "Perhaps you're right Commodore. I am bitter, but not about my past. I'm bitter about present circumstances. I'm sick and tired of being labelled a thief and a lout and a good for nothing papist! The Irish have it hard enough as it is and then add to that the fact of my being a woman. I was doomed from the start. I find it hard to control my temper sometimes. perhaps it's my hair colouring or something? I apologise for snapping."

I don't know where the apology came from, because I'm not sure I meant it. He accepted it all the same though with a curt nod. "Yes I do believe you are inclined to let your mouth run away with you on occasion Miss. Your stubbornness and resilience does you credit though. I surmise it's what's kept you alive. An Irish temper is a well known thing and it's always said that Irish women are not to be crossed. Do not be ashamed of it. On any other ship such as this you would need such wits about you."

"That's certainly true," I agreed solemnly as I turned to lean against the railings again, looking out into the murky depths. "I know men like yourself have no liking for outspoken and abrupt women. They have no place in your society. It must take some getting used to. In the circles I'm moving in, you're right. A smart mouth and..." I felt my face heat a little before I decided to say it anyway. "A smart mouth and a well placed slap are often the finest tools you can have."

I'd laughed a little and thought he might too. I'd thought it might have ended our digressing conversation and pull us back to the more important matters. Instead of laughing along with me though he moved so that he was leaning his back against the railings. When he leaned back a little further, he could look directly into my eyes. I was a little perturbed at seeing him take such a relaxed stance. Now I wonder if he was trying to bring himself down to my level, in that leaning made him shorter.

"I am inclined to think I was very wrong about you Miss O'Connell." I remember wondering how on earth the woman he had loved had chosen someone else over him in that moment, for James's eyes were so green and alive and beautiful as they gazed into mine, that I almost lost my senses. "I will consent to allow Sparrow to sail us to these islands, in return the women in the brig will be released. The women will be deposited at the nearest port on our return journey, as will you if that is your wish. If you would prefer though, I can see to it that you are taken to a port of your choosing."

I smiled disbelievingly at him then, trying to account for his sudden pleasantries. "Even in Ireland Commodore?"

He returned the smile as if he knew what I was going to say all along. "Yes, even in Ireland."

I wanted so much to break the stare then. Both of us, staring at each other and smiling those wistful kind of smiles that were not happy; but they spoke of our efforts at friendliness. I couldn't do it, I couldn't turn away from him. "Oh don't worry about all that," I commented drily to finish the conversation. "There's nothing for me in Ireland anyway."

He shifted a little, returning to his natural height as I almost saw his thoughts running past his eyes. "If there is some issue there, perhaps a letter of recommendation from myself might find you employment? Evidently you can read and write, and have an intelligent head about your shoulders. You might find work easily. Even as a Commodore my name bears some weight."

I didn't quite know why he'd offer such a thing to someone like me. A few hours beforehand I'd thought he didn't even like me very much, and here he was offering to back me with his own good name. Even so, it wasn't something I was ever going to accept, so I decided I didn't need to know why he offered such a thing. I shook my head. "I don't think you understand. I can't go back to Ireland...ever." I fixed him with a look that I hoped might tell him I wanted to end such a topic of conversation, but I think what he saw in my eyes might have been fear. Then I discovered just why he'd offered his assistance; to see if I'd let something slip.

"Perhaps another type of letter is required then. I could have one drawn up for the local magistrate where you are from, in case something or someone might cause you harm." He fixed me with his own stare that rattled me a little. There it was again, that unnerving sense of him seeing right into my very soul. "I am of course inclined to think it is the latter."

"What nonsense," I whispered lightly and tried for nonchalance. I knew though that he wasn't buying my pretence.

He finally began to move away from the railing then. "The offer stands Miss O'Connell. Good night."

I felt something clutch at my heart then, some kind of pull that made me acknowledge what he was prepared to do for me, even if I didn't want him to really know how much it meant to me. "Oh can't we stop it with the Miss O'Connell thing?" I turned around to find him watching me over his shoulder. "I'm no Lady or Miss. All of that makes me feel like I'm seen as something I'm not. I'm just Fiona. Fiona is fine. I appreciate your offer Commodore but there's no need for such a thing, really."

He nodded curtly and I saw his eyes dip just for a fraction of a second to the necklace around my neck. "The offer will stand, should you ever require it. Even after you have taken leave of this ship. Good night _Miss_ Fiona."

He really was a marvel, I thought as I stared at his retreating back. All of a sudden I saw him differently, and before you laugh at me and call me a loose headed goose, it wasn't because of the dream. Alright, it wasn't _all_ because of the dream. I'd snapped at him, and he'd just taken that in his stride. He hadn't scolded me for my rudeness as he more than likely should have done. He'd been kind. He was kind. There was a kindness to him that made me think of Mick and his crew. The thing was, that dream made me think of him another way. I could definitely discern his good looks now, even if he did not project them as others did. I thought about Jack Sparrow in the brig, who thought of his own looks and his own self as highly as was possible. James was so markedly different. Even before he had been spurned by the woman who broke his heart he had not even considered how good a match he was.

His head was full of ambition and loyalty and not his power but his potential. James was a different breed to any other man I'd ever met. He might have thought of me as a chess piece at the beginning, or a means to an end but all that I even understood. He was all strategy and tactful words because he believed there was nothing else in life for him; that he had nothing left to offer. All of that almost floored me. She really was foolish, the woman who had spurned him. Sparrow had told me she was wealthy and fine and beautiful. She was the perfect match for James in essence. Really, she'd only helped him though. If she did not love him, it was right that she should not have married him. The man deserved someone who had a determination like his own, a kindness like his own.

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 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona has quite the negotiation on her hands, and Jack Sparrow proves himself as a pirate!**_


	16. Chapter Sixteen - A Negotiation

**_This chapter took me weeks to write. I hate it, but I've re-written it too many times now to think of any new way to write it. Please look past it as we're coming to the turning point of the story within the next chapter! I thought It made sense that Jack might not entirely play along with Fiona's plan as he does like to do things his own way, but I'm not sure how well I've written him here! I much prefer writing for the sullen and aloof Norrington!_**

 ** _P.S. to the guest who reviewed; first of all thank you! And well done for spotting that! Keep Perseus and Andromeda in mind! ;)_**

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen - A Negotiation**

It was the next day before I was able to inform the pirates of James's change of mind. I'd wandered back down to the cabin I'd been assigned and had slept there after my conversation with James. Oddly it had become almost habit to retire there at the end of the day even if I felt the need to go down to the brig first. My knee was certainly feeling the benefit of sleeping in a bed rather than on the floor and I didn't even feel that guilty about the fact that the pirates were stuck down there any more. I don't know, maybe my allegiance was already changing in my mind slightly as I grew more comfortable with James.

The atmosphere had changed above deck now that there was a pre-determined course, with things moving at a much quicker pace. The officers did not stop to talk as often as they were now very busy overseeing the general running of the ship. A few days after my conversation with James it appeared he was holding up his end of the bargain when Jack Sparrow was brought up onto deck. I couldn't help rolling my eyes because I heard him before I saw him, badgering Lieutenant Thompson about the location of _The Black Pearl_ , which had been docked at the first port we had come across months ago.

"Commodore, what's become of my ship?" he asked once he was brought onto the quarter deck where James stood at the wheel.

"Mr. Sparrow-"

The chains that bound his hands rattled a little as Sparrow raised a single finger in the air as if to make his point more defined. "Captain! Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Mr. Sparrow," James continued resolutely. "As you are not currently in possession of a ship, your captaincy has been terminated. We have brought you above deck to offer you terms. As I believe you will be aware by now, I am searching for a unique object that has yet to be discovered. We have our first destination-"

"But in that said ship still exists in this great old world and has not been taken over by another, I am still it's captain. I do not think you would give up your title Commodore once you leave behind this grand ship and return to your office in Fort Charles."

I was standing on the poop deck, listening with a growing sense of apprehension. I'd thought Sparrow would be eager to help, not in the least because James would let Anamaria and Mai go free at the next port. I also thought he'd want to be above deck, antagonising James as much as possible and of course gathering his own information. Watching him glance around excitedly, I had the sudden thought though that perhaps I'd been wrong about the man. Maybe he didn't care at all for his crew down in the brig. Perhaps he'd leave them all behind and save himself if he could.

"My rank was bestowed upon myself by an advocate of the king himself Mr. Sparrow. Yours at best came from a pirate brethren or as I suspect, it was of your own making." I could see a vein throbbing on James's neck above his shirt collar. Sparrow smirked, his attempt at ruffling James's feathers succeeding without much effort on his part. "As I was saying," James continued as he turned and motioned to a small table that had been brought above deck to rest maps on, "We have been made aware of a grouping of islands in the Indian ocean that may or may not be worth searching. You will know how treacherous the waters are nearing the southern tip of Africa. I have yet to sail such seas before without a seasoned sailor who knows the waters there well enough. Mr. Sparrow..." James hesitated and I thought I could see doubt creeping into the features of the one side of his face that I could see. "If you will consent to sail us there, then I am prepared to offer you terms. The two women held within the brig will be released and deposited at the nearest port upon our return journey. You yourself will be returned to the brig where you will remain."

There was silence between the men for a few moments as the wind picked up and whisked in between the sails. The material fluttered and cracked against the wind and I felt the hem of my skirt lift a little as a gust rushed along the poop deck. Sparrow's eyes lifted to meet mine for the quickest of glances before he smirked.

"I love these moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by."

I was shaking my head incredulously. Hadn't we all agreed that Jack Sparrow would play along? There was such a sense of frustration growing within me then, for I knew I should have seen it coming; should have known Jack Sparrow would have his own game of sorts to play.

"So you are declining the offer?" James asked with a decidedly brisk tone. "I've given you all that I can Mr. Sparrow. I am sure you are aware that there will never be a day when I readily offer terms in which you yourself may potentially earn your own freedom. Indeed I thought of offering you no terms at all. I was persuaded to believe though that you might have some consideration towards the welfare of your crew. You might spare the women of your crew a short drop and a sudden stop if only you would consent to do my bidding.

Sparrow spared me another glance as James took a decided step back. "But of course," mused James as he appeared to admit defeat. "What else is to be expected from a vile and dissolute creature such as yourself Mr. Sparrow. You indeed are the very worst of pirates if you will not even commit to that which pains you in order to preserve the lives of two of your accomplices. Take him back to the brig Lieutenant Thompson. There is to be no repeat of such a negotiation."

James turned on his heel as if to turn away and my outrage at his lack of effort gave way. I'd thought his disdain for Sparrow had clouded his judgement so much that he was not even going to try to force the pirates's hand but his impatient expression that I could now see more clearly led me to believe that he was biding his time, and hoping that Sparrow would eventually be the one to give in.

"The worst pirate?" Jack fought against Lieutenant Thompson's hold but of course by that point I knew there was no real force dragging him back towards the brig. "See that's funny that is, mate. Funny coming from the man who's just asked for my help."

James stopped walking but he did not turn around. He lifted his head a little so that his eyes could meet mine. I knew what those emerald green eyes were asking me even though his exasperated expression was evident. I sighed heavily and moved towards the steps that would take me back towards the quarterdeck. I'd wanted to try and stay out of the negotiations if I could, but I think I knew as soon as Sparrow refused to enter into negotiations that I'd be called upon. I reached the bottom step just as James turned back towards Sparrow again, and it felt almost as if I'd really chosen a side in that moment; both of us desperately wanting to try and convince the pirate to help.

"You're not the worst pirate," I stated blandly as I reached Jack's side. "Think of all the men we've met upon the seas Jack. There's far worse than you. No, in fact I think you're quite a good one. I think what the Commodore means to say is that if you're ready and willing to let your friends die when you might have spared them, you aren't a good man. When all is said and done Jack, people won't judge you for your exploits as a pirate, but on your reputation as a man."

"Not where I come from love." Jack turned amused eyes upon her. "Being a good man won't make me pirate king. Being a good pirate will."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yeah because you're well on your way to the brethren court Jack Sparrow. Locked in the brig of a Navy ship without so much as a piece of eight between you and all of your crew. The reality is, you've little choice in the matter. If you refuse, Anamaria will know. I'll tell her. She'll claw your eyes out."

"Why should I help a man who's tried to kill me once, and who still wants me dead?"

I wondered just what it was Sparrow wanted from me in the silent seconds that passed as the wind picked up again and whistled between us all. He wanted me to prove something perhaps, but all that I knew was honesty and truth. "What makes a good pirate Jack? A violent one, or a greedy one, or a clever one? The best of pirates know which treasure they should take, and which they should leave behind. Come and look at these charts, Jack."

Without waiting to see if he would follow me, I approached the table and unrolled the charts that had been brought up from James's cabin. Within a second or two, Sparrow was behind me, peering over my shoulder. How did he know then, when we did not even know ourselves? I could feel his stale breath on my neck but I didn't flinch away for fear I'd loose my momentum. When I glanced up, I couldn't quite work out the expression on James's face. Later on I understood it to be anger of some kind. Jack was one of the first to sense what awaited James and myself in our future, and he wanted to torment James even if it was with just a smug grin.

"I remember seeing maps upon a chart Jack," I continued. "They were just north of the southern tip of Africa. We need you to sail us just north of Madagascar." I had wanted to say west, but I had conceded defeat because every man aboard believed Mr. Hawkins' judgement to be better than mine. I had decided to harbour a hope secretly, that the islands to the west would appear out of the mist just when the men thought all was lost.

His usual smugness seemed to give way somewhat as he watched my hands trace the blank expanse of ocean where I'd glimpsed the islands on another map. I watched his mood shift in his eyes as he glanced up at me again. Even though I'd described what I'd seen to him before, it appeared that Sparrow was only then coming to realise just where he was expected to sail us. " _The Tide-less Haven..._ "

"Is that what they're called; these islands?" I asked him as he took a step back from the table again. He shook his head and I watched as a shadow crossed his expression, as if his own thoughts had brought about a sense of fear within him.

"Answer her question!" James barked. "That's an order!"

"Jack?" I pressed in a gentle tone.

" _The Tide less Haven_ is one island in the Indian ocean off the coast of Madagascar," Jack began. "There's been many stories over the years about caves full of treasure on that island...but no one's ever found it. Quite a few went looking and didn't come back."

"What kind of treasure?" I asked as I felt my curiosity heighten a little. "Your eyes didn't light up when you said the word so it must be something that you wouldn't even sail there for."

"Not all treasure is silver and gold love," Jack replied with a smile. "It was once said those caves held within them the power to control all of the seas. Only one man will ever be able to claim it. Everyone else will perish trying. The people who return from those caves have never really gone inside, even if they say that they have. I knew a lad once; an ambitious fellow with dreams of grandeur. He never went into those caves, but his friend did. He was never the same after he returned. He left the sea forever, returned to land and locked himself away. I think his own shadows frightened him to death because of what he witnessed that day."

"What's in the caves Jack?" I pressed again.

He shrugged. "No one who went into those caves ever came out love. There's no saying what's in there."

"Who is the man?" James asked suddenly. "You spoke of one man who would be able to claim such treasure."

"Your guess is as good as mine mate." I didn't need to ask Sparrow why he'd never ventured to those caves himself. Pirates and the Irish are some of the most superstitious in the world and to me it seemed rather obvious that Sparrow valued his own neck above whatever treasure the caves held. Perhaps he even believed the myth he had been told. I knew James would never understand that though. To him all pirates were the same. I knew Jack Sparrow well enough to see through all of the bravado and the hand waving and... well the downright weirdness. I understood what made him tick and if he of all people felt that such a treasure was not worth the risk and that spoke volumes to me.

Jack turned to watch me as I wandered around the table until I was stood facing him. "What's got into you though love? Who's side are you on now?"

Sides?" I yelled incredulously. "Jack I'm on my own side! In case you haven't noticed, you got me into this mess in the first place! I'm just trying to find the quickest way out of it! You're caught hook, line and sinker so perhaps it's time that you admitted defeat just this once. No one is asking you to go into the cave Jack. Just sail us there?" I began to move again, walking around the table until I was at Sparrow's side once more. I gazed up at him and he turned to face me. "It's like I said really, the best pirates know when the adventure of it all is the real treasure. Sail us to those islands and you'll be the Captain Jack Sparrow that sailed to _The Tide less Haven_ and revered his name as the best pirate in the Spanish main. It's not great treasure discoveries that will really have you remembered Jack. Think about all of the greats that you aspire to be like. They didn't get to be so well known because they sacked a few ships and unearthed some gold. It's the attitude they possess, that stubborn self will to sail into the most perilous waters and meet the most terrible monsters." I stepped a little closer so that I was looking up at him through my eyelashes and immediately I caught his brief glance towards my chest. I so badly wanted to cross my arms over my shirt and block his view but I knew I needed to lure him in. "If you want to be remembered Jack, you have to do something memorable. Do something no pirate has ever done before. Be daring, be mad, be Captain Jack Sparrow. Mick would have done it, and he wasn't even a pirate!"

Sparrow scoffed. "Love, your late Captain; God rest 'is soul was a bloody pirate and you know it. He had the heart of a good man and the mind of a marauder! He'd have made a killin' if he'd not toed that line so much. Perhaps that was the wrong choice of words but you know what I mean."

"Then be that man Jack." I touched the lapel of his heavy coat with the palm of my hand, just above where his heart was. "I heard you once in your drunken stupor telling Anamaria that you wished you'd been more like Mick, that you'd wished you'd stayed on the right side of the law just a little bit longer. Now you have the chance to be that man and to be the pirate you've always wanted to be. Prove to your pirate brethren court that you're the only man capable of being a pirate King even in death. Go out in a blaze of glory and save Ananmaria's life! You'll need someone to carry those stories of yours won't you? You can't be the greatest pirate that ever lived if there's no one to tell people about you. Be the man I think you are deep down inside and show us how to get there."

Sparrow grinned then as his eyes left mine then and looked at a spot over my shoulder. "Now that's how to negotiate, savvy?"

"So you'll sail us there?" came James's clipped tone.

"There are conditions Commodore," Jack waved a hand to halt proceedings and pulled at his beard between two fingers as he seemed to deliberate with himself.

"Jesus Christ," I mumbled in exasperation as I leaned back against the table.

Then after a few seconds; "Rum. I want a constant supply of rum."

"You could have asked for almost anything, and you ask for rum?" I cried incredulously.

"What's wrong with that?" Jack asked me with a serious expression. "I've never made a trip sober."

"That I can believe." I rolled my eyes at him. "I've never met a man who drank it who wasn't a complete scoundrel. It's rancid enough to turn even the best of gentlemen into rogues and rakes."

I jumped a little when his hand brushed against my waist. "Maybe you ought to try it love, might loosen you up a little!"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Sparrow, perhaps you would do us the courtesy of accompanying these fine lieutenants to the helm and providing them with a bearing to this _Tide less Haven_. You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating-"

I had turned and caught the briefest of flashes in James's eyes that caused me a little wonder, but for the most part I was grateful that he had stepped in, before Sparrow interrupted him. "All possible meanings of the phrase 'Silent as the grave'. Yeah I think I've heard that one before somewhere," the pirate mused. He approached James then, the palms of his shackled hands held in mock surrender. "Captain Jack Sparrow; call me Captain, Commodore."

Do not push your luck, pirate." James side stepped him and approached the table where I stood whilst Sparrow was led to the helm by lieutenant Thompson, babbling nonsense all the way. "Thank you," James said quietly as he reached my side.

I gave him a small smile in return. "Don't thank me. I meant what I said. I'm on my own side. I didn't do it for you." Honestly, even then I didn't know who much truth there was in my words.

"You certainly appear to have gained some insight into the mind of Jack Sparrow," he mused as he watched the pirate causing a fuss as he was shackled to the ship's wheel.

"I know the sea, Commodore, but I don't know Jack Sparrow. No one does. I don't even think he knows himself you know. Maybe that's the rum though."

* * *

After four days I think Sparrow was the only one aboard not loosing his patience. Even I spent as little time as possible near the helm where the pirate retained his steady rum-induced stupor. I could fend off Sparrow's jibes with a few funny retorts of my own that Sparrow seemed to like very much and I could placate his forever curious mind but I knew that almost everyone else was struggling. The officers were sick and tired of the endless ill-timed jokes and the mid ship-men were enraged by his constant criticisms. James couldn't even bring himself to look in Sparrow's direction and I was always conscious of that vein throbbing on his neck. The only person who seemed wholly unaffected by Sparrow's presence at the helm was Mr. Hawkins. He was enthralled by the pirate's tales and Sparrow relished in an audience. There was something about the situation that made me uneasy though. It was almost as if Mr. Hawkins knew exactly how to best compliment and admire. In return Sparrow told him more. I was quite sure in fact that Sparrow had told Mr. Hawkins more than he had told his own crew down in the brig.

He was returned there for a few hours sleep each night, in the knowledge that he would be woken if the seas grew rough and he was needed above deck again. He was enamoured to be so needed and I think that was what riled James more than anything else. "There was a time when I believed I'd rather see my ship at the bottom of the ocean than in the hands of a pirate," he'd remarked one afternoon as he watched Sparrow from the forecastle deck. I think he'd only mentioned as much to myself because James was ashamed to admit to his officers and crew that he was letting the nonsense of a pirate bother him. I think they'd have understood in all honesty. Sparrow has ways of getting under people's skin when he knows he can vex them. He relished in it because if people were too busy feeling affronted, they weren't paying attention to whatever shoddy scheme he was concocting behind their backs.

"And yet here we all are," I quipped as I rolled my eyes. He didn't see, but I think he heard my exasperation in my tone. "It's just a ship Commodore, and once we reach these islands Sparrow will go back into the brig."

"I do not like entrusting the well-being of my ship and all those aboard her to a scoundrel like that man." His words were spoken from behind clenched teeth, and I decided that it was not the moment to try and assure him in any way. The anger and hatred he felt towards Jack Sparrow was evidently not something that was going to shift with the exemplary god behaviour of the pirate.

I shrugged as I leaned against the railings. "It could be worse. It could be up there."

I caught his sharp turn towards me out of the corner of my eye and I did not react. "Yes Mr. Hawkins is a rather curious character. He has yet to learn how to take instruction of any kind. I do fear that the influence of a pirate will only increase my distrust of the man. I would ask that any questions he may ask of you Miss, you refer him to me. To a man like him you are a curiosity and I get the impression he will not desist until he gathers all that there is to know of you."

"He's just a pirate on the right side of the law," I supplied as I turned so that my back was against the railings. Haven't you noticed that Hawkins and Sparrow ask the same kind of questions Commodore? They have the same end goal, but even if it may be too bold of me to say so, I think I'd rather place my trust in the pirate."

"And how do you come by such an observation?" James was standing a few feet from me, but I could feel apprehension radiating from him. Whilst I had noticed that he was avoiding the helm whilst Sparrow was there, I had also begun to suspect that he might just be avoiding me also. This conversation was the first time we had spoken since the day of the negotiations. I'd moved here and there about the ship, going from the little cabin I'd been assigned to the brig and up onto deck where I helped out with whatever tasks I could persuade the officers to give me. I had not come across James once though, even though he was continuously giving orders and overseeing Sparrow's navigation of what turned out to be quite perilous waters.

I shrugged again, suddenly feeling as if I were being scrutinised by those eyes that so much resembled emeralds. "The way I see it, Jack Sparrow is nothing but himself. Everything that's ever been said about him, he's lived up to it in some way. He doesn't hide a single part of himself because everything he does is spare of the moment. Even when he plans ahead I don't think he really knows the full extent of what's in his own mind. He's not a calculating kind of person. I think that Mr. Hawkins is. There's a lot he's keeping to himself and this whole time he's been calculating what he's owed and what else he can bargain for."

"Perhaps Miss Fiona you might agree that it takes one of a similar nature to know the like?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" I cried, forgetting for a second just who I was speaking with. James didn't seem preturbed in the slightesy by my outburst though.

"Please do not consider myself a fool Miss. I have not overlooked the fact that you yourself are a closed book entirely. You've spoken very little of yourself and what you have said has been somewhat cryptic. Your instinct to do so is a trustworthy one though."

I wanted so badly to scoff at his words and pretend I did not know what he meant, but I had not the indignation within me to mock him when I knew he was intelligent man. He would see through that very well. "Commodore I might reply that you are also of that same kind. I do believe I've given a great deal more of myself than you have; but it is not your place to. Nor is it mine. We do not need to know a great deal about each other to sail together to these islands in search for your treasure. I think though that you ought to at least in your own mind come to terms with the fact that you've had to take the advice and the assistance of a pirate to to continue your search. You're so reluctant to believe in a word that Jack says because of what he is, but has it never occurred to you that your hatred and consequent pursuit of him might be an act of piracy in itself?"

I left him with his thoughts that day and we barely spoke again until the night when the first bad storm came upon us. The waters were certainly worse as we sailed just off the coast of the southern tip of Africa, and we were lucky to be so close to land. I think if we had not been we might have all perished. Jack Sparrow stood at the helm in control of the ship, with a determination in his eyes that told of his reluctance to let such a storm beat him, even aboard a Navy ship. James took charge of all else, separating himself by taking up position on the main deck. There was no rain, only strong winds that braced against the sides of the ship and made it buck to and fro. In daylight it might not have been so hard a crossing, but the darkness shrouded the waters before us in mystery. All were on deck to lend a hand, fighting the jerky movements of the ship as Sparrow tried to navigate us first south and then west. We were all exhausted when the winds finally began to die down just as first light could be witnessed in the sky.

Just as we thought it was over though, there was a flurry of movement as men rushed down from the forecastle deck. We all turned to gaze upon the most impressive wall of water I'd ever seen. The crest of the wave appeared to be as tall as the main mast and we were headed straight for it. There was yelling and screaming as everyone seemed to move as one as far towards the stern as they could. Maybe it was rope I tripped over, but I fell flat on my face, the surface water that coated the decking cool against my skin. I took the executive decision to stay down and grabbed onto the railings as others appeared to follow suit, thinking I'd deliberately dived for cover. In the end only two men remained standing, and James was racing up the steps, pushing against the wind until he reached the quarter deck where Jack Sparrow was still at the helm. No sooner had he reached the pirate and motioned to take the ship's wheel into his own hands than Jack made his move. He tugged forcibly hard on the wheel, the rash movement turning the ship starboard in such a quick movement that we all felt ourselves being dragged in that direction. Miraculously, none of us lost our grip but there were a fair few groans and yells as people struggled. The movement of the ship forced the keel straight into the path of the wave but there was no crash of water to the deck, no wave swallowing the ship whole. Instead the keel appeared to ride the wave, and I lifted myself enough to watch the unmistakably fearful expression upon James's face. Jack had a face like stone though, so full of concentration and determination that not even that smug grin permeated. The keel buffered the wave as the ship finally began to sail forwards out of the path of the wall of water and out into a calmer patch of the ocean.

There was nothing for a while as everyone no doubt tried to take in what had happened. Everyone was breathing deeply, too scared to rise on their feet again lest another wave should appear out of nowhere again. "Did everyone see that? Because I will not be doing it again?" I heard Sparrow roar from the helm. Everyone groaned in unison, as if they'd just conquered death and the last thing they needed was Jack Sparrow claiming to have saved them all. Gradually everyone began to right themselves, returning to their positions and myself and Mr. Hawkins found ourselves engaged in trying to secure one of the sails that had come loose.

"No need to thank me Commodore," Sparrow crowed. "All in a day's work for a pirate eh?"

"Perhaps if the seas remain calm you might take some respite Mr. Sparrow," was all the reply that James gave.

"Oh come now mate, I've just saved your skinny little neck. Surely that warrants at least a word of thanks?"

"I'll thank you Mr. Sparrow when we as a whole return to Port Royal unscathed. for now, do what has been asked of you and remember who is in command of this ship."

"This would be the day Commodore," Sparrow mused, "That you'd always remember as the day a pirate saved your life, if you in fact bestowed your powers of trust upon said pirate."

"Trust is a strong word Mr. Sparrow," James commented drily. "I might congratulate you upon the clever manoeuvring of a ship as large as _The Surgence_ many times over and still never come to trust you."

"And yet you trust Mr. Hawkins to be your guide? If it were me mate, I'd have dumped him in Tortuga. What need have you of him now that you have the little Irish map reader and Captain Jack Sparrow?"

James almost laughed. "You're giving me advice on who I might trust now are you, pirate?"

"Me Commodore? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for. If you know who she really is," Sparrow jerked his head in the direction of myself and Mr. Hawkins down on the forecastle deck, "Then you'll already know what I mean. I'm no risk to 'er, but he is!"

Jack says James schooled his expression into one of indifference and it makes me wonder then what was crossing his mind. "And you know who she is do you, pirate?"

"Of course I do mate, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter; Fiona may just be proved right!**_


	17. Chapter Seventeen - A Cat Amongst the

_**Thanks for the reviews as ever! I'm glad that Jack seemed okay even though I'm still doubting the writing a bit!**_

 _ **Icar372, of course! I've not done much exploring down in the south of Ireland in terms of historical sites apart from a wander round the courtyard of Dublin castle and a visit to the G.P.O. on O'Connell Street. It's only a post office but it's quite an important mark on Irish history. The museum in Dublin isn't bad either. In terms of Northern Ireland there's quite a bit but I'll give you what I think is most worth it! In central Belfast where I am there's the Titanic docks and Titanic Museum (which speaks for itself I think) and The Ulster Folk and Transport Museum isn't a bad day out in terms of recent Irish history. It's basically buildings uprooted from their original location and all moved to one spot. It's kind of set around the 1900 mark I think, and there's houses to explore and a sweet shop and a bar to give you a feel for the way of life here back then, and then the transport part is all old cars and buses from that kind of era. There's also the Crumlin Road Gaol if you like all things crime and punishment. I've only done a Halloween ghost tour there but I really want to see it during the day. There's the Ulster Museum as well only a few minutes walk up the street from Queen's university. Outside Belfast and if you only see one thing in Northern Ireland; Giant's Causeway! You won't see anything like it anywhere else and if you're up that direction you may as well visit Carrick-a-Reed rope bridge. There's quite the walk to it mind! There's also Dunluce Castle (a ruin which is said to be C.S. Lewis's inspiration for Cair Paravel in The Chronicles of Narnia! It's beautiful!) which is not far from Portrush. The Bushmills Whiskey distillery is also up that direction if you're into that kind of thing. There's all the Game of Thrones tours as well although I've not been on one yet, and there's beautiful gardens at Mount Stewart which is an old stately home. There's Carrickfergus Castle which is about a half hour drive from Belfast and Castle Ward (Winterfell in Game of Thrones). I think that's all the things I'd think worth a trip if you're nearby but diffinetly a must is The Giant's Causeway! I hope this helps! I'd love to know what you think of it all when you visit so please let me know! If you need any more info I'm here! If you visit anywhere good in the South of Ireland I'd love to hear about it too. I need to explore there more!**_

 _ **So we've a bit more delving into things with Mai in this chapter, which Fiona may or may not like, and at the very very end, the real action is going to begin!**_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen - Cat Amongst the Pigeons**

I believe it might pain James to admit it even now, but even he knows that no one ever sailed like Jack Sparrow. Not before; not after. The way we crested that wave that day, like we were meant to be there was something else entirely. I always liked to think Mick was as much of a sailor as Jack, but I don't even think he'd have managed it. I suppose it was time for me to stop idolising the idea of a man who was gone from my life and accept what was before me. I knew after that day that there was something within the air. I couldn't for the life of me fathom what it was, whether it was the seas we sailed at that time, or whether it was Sparrow or even James or myself. Something had changed though, and it felt almost like some form of static energy in the air, almost as if we were being reeled in towards that which would bring about a new phase.

Mai knew it too. I knew as soon as I sat down upon the floor of the brig and observed the sleeping crew of _The Black Pearl_. Mai was the only one awake, and she was watching me with expectant eyes. "You not come earlier?"

She'd thought I might have approached her sooner, I thought she meant. I nodded my understanding. "Perhaps I was frightened of what you might say Mai, or of what you might show me. I think that you know some of what I've seen, but I need you to help me decipher it. I need to know what these dreams of mine are."

Mai smiled knowingly. "Only you know. You will decide it yourself."

"Lets start with the easy questions," I mused as I leaned back against the iron bars and crossed my straight legs. My knee was throbbing and it was difficult to keep it in such a position, but I persevered. I wondered mildly in the few moments of silence that followed if I'd knocked my knee when I'd fallen to the deck earlier. I sighed heavily and placed my hand through into the cell so that Mai could take mine in hers. Her hands were hot and clammy, but mine were freezing. Her touch was gentle, but I'd expected her to grab and clutch at me tightly. She seemed to sense my surprise.

"I not have to show all the time," she whispered. "Ask question..."

I nodded again. I was glad she didn't always have to show me things. I needed her touch though because I felt I needed to connect with her on some other level, to feel that understanding with her. "Alright. I want to know if I'll see Mick O'Malley again in my dreams?"

There was something akin to sympathy upon her face then, but I didn't want to put all of my belief in it's authenticity. "Not possible as before. You may conjure memories...images of yours but it will not be real."

I'd known I think, that I'd not really see Mick in such a way again. I'd felt it even in my dream. It was almost like he'd come to say goodbye. "So he was real then; the Mick that I saw in my dream? He was really showing me those islands upon a map?"

Mai's smile was still in place, as if she'd known all along that this conversation would transpire. "He always knew...always teaching you. You let him, which means you felt...you felt it was important."

"So he's always been teaching me you say, leading me towards finding those islands on a map and then coming upon them in reality? Is that what you mean?"

She shrugged. "He is the rock. He had to."

"The rock?" I asked with a sudden sense of urgency. "You're the second person to call him that! The rock? Do you mean he's the rock from my other dream?"

"He keep you safe." Mai sat forward a little so that her hand gripped a little further up my wrist. "He keep you safe and let you go in right moment."

I shook my head. "The rock didn't let me go though did it? Not in my dream! Do you know what I saw Mai? Do you know how I saw the man upstairs, who has charge of this ship? Why would my mind throw us together in a dream like that? It felt so real."

"The man is destiny..." I didn't ask her what that meant. We fell into silence for a long while as I contemplated her words. Then after what felt like an age she said, "He broke chains. He breaks everything for you."

I barked a laugh that was perhaps too loud for our rather cramped position, but I glanced around me and none of the crew were stirring at all. "Hardly, I thought he didn't like me at all until very recently. He tolerates me I think, because I'm helping him but he won't break anything for me. Trust me on that. He's a desperate man seeking a desperate thing. He'll stop at nothing so I don't even faction into his grand scheme. He'll break nothing that would ruin his pursuit of the admiralty. That's what Jack Sparrow says he wants more than anything."

"He nearly broke for woman before," Mai supplied as if to try and prove me wrong.

"So what if he did? He still loves her, whoever she is. It's written all over his face. That's why he's so determined to succeed now, Mai."

"She is the past. You are future." I felt Mai's grip on my wrist tighten. "You want to see?"

"No I bloody well don't!" I snapped, but I didn't shake off her grip. "I've seen enough to make me blush beetroot when I'm anywhere near the man. There was a woman in my village in Ireland who claimed to see such strange things. She went away to some fair to try her luck as some sort of soothsayer I think, but when she came back she was a broken kind of creature. Apparently she had such horrid visions, salacious ones. The fool told everyone about them and she was accused of being a witch and a whore who was inciting illicit rumours about well-to-do folk. She was tortured and locked away for a time and then when she was released she came home, shut herself up in her old little cottage and died shortly after. She might not have burnt at the stake, but they killed her just the same. Apparently such thoughts are not for women. I dare say it though, that if such thoughts were not for men and they received the same treatment, there would be no men left in the world. They are permitted to be as lewd as they wish."

"You too innocent," Mai replied. "You not see real meaning!"

"The real meaning? I had an indecent dream about that sullen man upstairs who's actually been decent to me, and now I can't look him in the eye for embarrassment! There's no Mick is the rock or I'm the-" I stopped abruptly as I realised the words I had been about to say. They had not been in my mind before, and yet they were on the tip of my tongue as if they'd always been there.

"Not?" Mai queried as she smirked.

"Not...not the chained woman. What chained woman? Chained as in the chained woman in the sky? The stars? Is that not supposed to be Andromeda; Andromeda who was saved from a sea monster by...Perseus?"

Mai didn't answer. She sat back with a satisfied smirk and released my wrist from her grip. I stared at her as I tried to corealate my thoughts. Had I really dreamt of Perseus and Andromeda and put James and myself in their places? What she'd said about Mick being the rock seemed to fit, and yet it all seemed so absurd.

"This is maddness," I whispered to myself. "It was just a bloody dream. I've been stressed and upset and any number of things and it's manifesting in weird dreams, that's all! I mean come on, the Commodore's as near to kissing me as he is to abandoning his Navy posting!"

Mai's smirk grew. "You know. I not need show you anything now."

* * *

I do not think James could deny that he had a need of Jack Sparrow's skill as a sailor. With each wave we crested and each tricky spot Sparrow managed to get us out of, it seemed James seemed to grow in confidence, almost as if he could sense that we were getting closer to the treasure he was so desperate to find. Although he will not admit it, I observed him as he watched the pirate's every move. He wanted to learn from a pirate. I suppose in his mind his thought process was that if he wanted to catch pirates, he'd have to begin to think like them too. It's actually one of his better theories. It was just a shame that Sparrow chose to torment him so about it, otherwise I'm inclined to think James might have been a little more open with him.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it love, _The Crown of Immortality..._ "

"Why would I want a thing like that Jack?" I cried incredulously as I leaned against the railings. "Sure what would I want to be living for all eternity for?"

"You Irish are worse than bloody pirates!" he exclaimed. "You're all too superstitious to simply look at something and take it at face value! If it really is just a crown that grants the wearer an immortal life with no strings attatched, what's not to want?"

I snorted as I watched his curious eyes. "For a start, wouldn't it be so awfully lonely to live for so long alone; to always be leaving people behind in the past? And another point to make is that I don't think it would seem real. I've seen a hell of a lot of things in my short time upon the sea, some of them quite traumatic. I don't think I'd want to live to see this beautiful world tear itself apart. There's too much violence and anger in this world."

"And yet," said Sparrow with a smirk, "You choose to sail treacherous seas love? You've a hankering for adventure like any pirate I've ever met. You feel it in your blood!"

"I won't dispute that," I agreed solemnly. "Mick taught me to see life that way. I don't think I should wish to prolong the time I'm granted though. When my end comes I'll meet it gladly, and I don't expect it to be so very far in the future as no one really survives on the sea do they?"

"You should meet my old man love, he's a pirate of the brethren court and has a heart younger than mine! The best of pirates and sailors can survive well enough if they put their minds to it."

"My first point still stands though." I turned away from him to stare down at the whitewater as it crashed against the side of the ship. We hadn't seen decent weather in days but I wasn't really one to be affected by wind and rain having grown up in Ireland. Indeed a light rain like there was that day was almost considered summer in Ireland. There was something quite calming in the rain I found, whilst officers ran from shelter to shelter because they were afraid of their wigs getting wet. "It would be such a lonely life to lead, seeing all of the world like that but never being able to really share the experience with someone. I don't think I should like to be alone. I think that I've started seeing things differently since Mick passed. I'm not as carefree as I was or would like to be. I don't want it to have changed me, but I thought I'd always have Mick. I had no need for anyone else because I thought I'd always have my friend at my side. I thought that was to be my life. It was naive of me to see things that way."

"I'm sure the Commodore will be only too happy to take his place." I glared at him in reply of his cryptic sentence. "Or what about Patrick O'Malley? I recall there was a time when you quite fancied yourself as his. You're on your way to finding him are you not, once this business is concluded? You aren't alone love, not with Captain Jack Sparrow to keep you company until you find your bonny lad."

"God I can't think of what's worse! Spending the rest of my life in your company or Patrick O'Malley's. You're both as bad as each other! Things aren't like that between Patrick and I now. Things have changed. We're just friends. We're family really. He's all the family I have left. I don't know if I'll stay with him long but I think I might need his help in finding my feet."

"You seem to have your feet firmly under the table here though love; what with the Commodore taking your advice. You could become his personal navigator or something like that! I dare say he'd bite your hand off if you offered. You've got a head for maps and a smart mouth so you'd fit right in." He moved from the wheel then, stepping as close to me as his shackles would allow. He was close enough to rest his hands on my shoulders and I immediately leaned away from him, feeling light headed as the overpowering scent of unwashed male and rum reached my nostrils. His hand could no longer reach my shoulders as my spine curved backwards so he removed them and planted them either side of my waist instead. "You're easy on the eye as well love, and I ain't the only one that's noticed. I dare say that Mr. Hawkins would show you a good time if you'd let him, but I think you're of a more refined taste. You like your men a little older do you not; smart and witty? If you're looking for someone to replace your Mick then I'm the next best thing."

I wasn't feeling threatened in any way by Sparrow's advances. I knew he was trying his luck as all men do, and he probably believed that his persistence was bound to pay off eventually. I knew if I really did show him how disagreeable I was to such an idea, he'd back off. He was the kind of man who got off on women liking him against their better judgement. A woman who was resistant was not his type at all. It was the smell that kept driving me backwards though until I was leaning backwards over the railings, trying to suck in fresher air.

"Jack I really don't think you can compare yourself to Mick now can you? In my eyes he's the best man there ever was excepting perhaps my father. Besides, I don't like men who find their solace in the bottom of a bottle! There's enough of those types back in Ireland and I've come all this way only to find myself still surrounded by them! God if you ever thought of washing it might do you a favour! Anamaria might look at you twice for once!"

"Well don't say I didn't offer darlin'," he sighed as his hands left my waist. he didn't move back though. "Perhaps you're angling to slip into the Commodore's bunk some night in the not too distant future eh? I mean, I knew you had standards love but that's really pushing the boat out! Don't get me wrong, it could well happen but sullying yourself with a man like old Norrington will mean no pirate will ever trust you again? Do you really want to be just some notch on his bedpost? Not meaning any offence though love 'cause something like that might be good for him what with his mind still being on his lovely Miss Swann. You've a sharp mouth which is always enjoyable and I've seen him looking at you, watching the swing of your hips as you walk and the way he turns away when you swing all your hair over one shoulder and leave that pretty neck uncovered; all that pure skin laid bare. You drive him wild love, and you don't even know it. It might be a release for him but what kind of life would that be for you love? He's so straight laced and rigid that your beloved adventures would have to come to an end! I think a man like me would be more your bottle of rum eh?"

I'd had enough of his jibes and inappropriate remarks. My slap to his face was a strong one, enough to leave a red mark for an hour or two afterwards, but it wouldn't leave any lasting damage. If it pained him a little, Sparrow didn't show it. His smirk was undeniable though as he gloried in having gained a reaction from me. I rolled my eyes and pushed him away to make for the steps down to the main deck but Lieutenant Thompson was ascending them. He'd clearly seen our discussion from his station, but if he'd seen me slap Sparrow, then he made no mention of it. Instead he motioned for me to follow him down the steps again.

"Miss, perhaps you might be inclined to accompany myself to the bow where there are currently dolphins cresting the waves?"

I nodded eagerly, suddenly glad that there was something pure and natural to look upon. He let me take the steps first, so I missed the slight inclining of his head that posed as a warning to the pirate who was returning to the ship's wheel. We crossed the main deck together and carried on until we reached the bow. Leaning over the side, I watched and waited and sure enough, a few moments later dolphins broke through the barrier of water and jumped. I'd always loved watching them, as a reminder of how pure and simple things could really be in the world. It can be frustrating and a little depressing at times, to always find yourself in the company of those who do not have the best intentions. Mick was always planing a dodgy deal or two that sometimes brought him into the paths of unsavoury characters. It was that feeling of standing before someone as they lie and scheme and don't care who know's it. It always made me feel dirty, as if I needed to dive over the railings and cleanse myself of whatever spells they had tried to weave. That was why I loved watching wildlife from the bow of a ship. They were beautiful and uninhibited. There was no deception in the creatures of the sea, even the dangerous ones. They were what they were and hid no agendas.

"That Mr. Sparrow wears thin on the Commodore's patience," Lieutenant Thompson voiced at last; perhaps once he thought I'd had the chance to calm down a little.

"Oh he's just being his usual self," I supplied without taking my eyes off the jumping dolphins below us. "Although I can readily see that his usual self is what antagonises the Commodore."

"If it were not for their previous acquaintance and grievances, there would not be such animosity."

I understood his meaning perhaps more than he thought I would. The Commodore in some way blamed Sparrow for his romantic loss. I've always considered it fruitless to blame others for losses such as that. Of course that's down to my superstition but I can't believe in fate and then say that Jack was to blame for Miss Swann's falling in love with a man who was not James. It was clear to me that James still hadn't come to terms with the fact that fate wished him to tread a different path as he was still so visibly disturbed by all that had occurred. If his officers were bold enough to speak of it, that meant he was clearly a long way from seeing a future for himself that did not directly involve Miss Swann. I know how that felt of course. Had I not spent months aboard that very ship wishing I were in the locker with Mick? I still missed him terribly, but I'd begun to consider what my future might be. I had a determination within me to find Patrick O'Malley first before I did anything else, and then to see where else life would take me. I'd crested my own wave, but James was still very much in the trough between two waves. He might eventually overcome one enough to crest it, but he'd still have a sense of grief within him for something, whether it still be the loss of his men during that hurricane or the Miss Swann who had spurned him.

I shrugged. "He's a pirate Lieutenant, I don't think he'll be changing his ways any time soon so your Commodore had best be getting used to him. I know well enough how antagonising he can be at times but that's all deliberate. He wants a reaction and I gave him one today. To be honest I think if he hadn't been drunk I'd have used my foot instead, and it wouldn't have been his face I'd have kicked!"

Lieutenant Thompson made no attempt to acknowledge my meaning and seemed a little put out by my lack of propriety but I wasn't bothered. I've never really shirked away from saying what I think unless it's going to overly offend the wrong kind of person. There wasn't much of that where I grew up in Ireland. People said what they thought in whatever manner they wished and that was that. There are certainly times when I've caught myself saying things that aren't perhaps what a lady would utter in polite society, but then I'm not a lady am I? I've never been that girl, and i've never pretended to be one either. I remember Patrick saying to me once that if I'd sailed with him he'd have put me to good use, dressed up in some fancy dress to fool men into buying or selling as his schemes permitted. If I'm honest, Patrick has the mind of a pirate and he can't be predicted so God only knows what he'd have asked of me if I had sailed with him instead of Mick. I think he thought he was paying me a compliment in a way by saying I'd pass as a young lady of good breeding because I had a pretty colouring and my accent would be somewhat attractive to Englishmen. I don't know where he got that idea from, because most of the Englishmen give the Irish a wide birth. I also think that Patrick thought of my colouring more as a money pot than a quality. I was under no illusions that Patrick would have likely made me cut my hair off so that it could be sold to some wig-maker. My hair's a popular colour I think, and would fetch more because of it.

I watched the dolphins long after Lieutenant Thompson had left me to resume my duties, and only stumbled back down to the brig for a word with Mai after the sun had set. Despite my own knowledge that Sparrow had been trying to rile me, I couldn't help letting his words niggle away in my mind. I was still trying to mull over everything that Mai had already told me, and the knowledge that I'd somehow replaced the Perseus and Andromeda of my dream with James and myself was disconcerting. When I coupled that with Sparrow's remarks, I was beginning to wonder if staying aboard this ship would be unhealthy for my mindset.

I voiced my thoughts to Mai long after the others had fallen asleep and she did not seem surprised by them. "Both of you connected, you know this."

"But how Mai?" I asked quietly. "What I saw might have just been a dream, and before you say that my dream about the maps was right; we may get there and find no treasure at all or it could be even worse than that! We might die there as Jack Sparrow says others have! Whatever happens, I'm getting off this ship at the first port we reach. Whatever connection you think there is Mai-"

"You will find way back. Fate will guide you both."

Mai seemed so sure of everything she said that I suppose it would have been easy for anyone else to believe her, but there were too many questions on my mind. To me it seemed there was very little connection between myself and James at all, and quite frankly I was looking forward to being without his company after he'd influenced my dreams so much. "What if I don't want that though Mai?" I pressed. "What if that's my worst nightmare! Jack is right, I'm not the kind of person who should be aboard a ship like this!"

Mai struck out her hand through the bars and made a grab for my own hand. "Let me show you future."

I shrank away from her a bit. "I don't think I want to see any more Mai. I've had enough of this. You can't expect me to keep seeing all of these things and to start believing in them! I'm inclined to think Tia Dalma has set all this up, has sent you to me to try and trick me into thinking I'll one day need her help and return to her."

"Tia Dalma not control my magic..." Mai seemed a little affronted that I'd suggest such a thing to her. "I show you what is destined, but you make choice that may change it? Your dream is special, means I think...that destiny will not change. You too far in."

"Too far in to what?" I asked incredulously as she waved her hand in front of my face. "Alright then, but whatever you show me I want you to explain it to me! Don't just sink into the corner over there and tell me you've shown me it so that's that!"

I gave her my hand, my eyes already closed before our skin touched. _It was different this time, quicker; almost as if the connection between us both had been sizzling under the surface, ready to be called into action. At first I thought I saw only the murky darkness of the back of my own eyelids and that nothing would come to me this time, but it was the noises around me that told me I had entered some kind of vision. There was chatter; endless chatter that was unfeeling and uncaring as my slippered feet shuffled nervously on the wooden boards. I opened my eyes, and saw darkness yet again, but this time light permeated through in little holes. There was a hessian bag over my head that blocked my surroundings from view and at once I knew what was going to happen. My stomach retched as I felt the coarseness of the rope that sat limply around my neck. It would not be limp for long. I felt dizzy where I stood, not sure what would happen if I collapsed. Would the rope strangle me before they had even released the stool on which I stood from beneath my feet? I fought to stay standing even though my foggy brain wanted my limbs to lie down. I began to panic, my breath uneven and beads of sweat rolling down my forehead onto my cheeks. My hands were tied behind my back so I couldn't reach up to pull the material away from my face to stop it suffocating me. I don't know whether the weather was balmy or I myself was just feeling hot in my distress but I thought the bag could very well suffocate me if they allowed me to stand there like that for much longer._

 _I shook myself as I recalled what Mick had told me about getting out of tricky situations. I needed to be more aware of the surroundings to try and help myself. I tried to drown out the chatter of what I assumed was a crowd around me, and the sound of the sea that I could hear nearby. There were birds as well, seagulls I think. Beneath all of that there were yet more voices from further afield but they were arguing. It was so heated and all of the other noises meant that I couldn't make out what they were saying. Then someone began to beat a drum in a steady staccato beat and I forgot everything else as I realised my impending doom was nigh._

 _The sound of the crowd ceased, and the argument seemed to have dissipated but for one man who was still shouting. "This is a farce. It is a mockery of the laws you profess to uphold! These charges are unfounded and ridiculous! You would kill your brother's own daughter all because she would not take your hand in marriage? You-"_

 _Something happened that prevented him from speaking and it was in the next few moments of silence that I was able to determine that it was indeed James's voice I had heard. His words had meant that my uncle was here. I was surely doomed if it were the case. I realised why he had stopped, as I felt the vibrations upon the wooden boards as footsteps circled around me and then the stool was abruptly kicked from under me._

I pulled myself out of that vision so fast that I felt dizziness overtake me and I had to lie flat on my back on the floor of the brig for a time. "You pulled away too early," Mai whispered. "I had more to show you!"

"Do you think I wanted to go through myself dying?" I roared incredulously as I forced myself to my feet. I swayed where I stood as the ship gave a sudden lurch. We were in the midst of a storm again it seemed. "No, I'm not having those thoughts in my mind!" I bellowed as the crew of _The Black Pearl_ began to stir. There were footsteps outside and then Lieutenants Gillette and Holmes appeared to fetch Sparrow to the helm. I followed the three of them as they made their way up through the ship and we met James who was drenched, but his wig and hat were still firmly in place. He still looked every inch the Commodore, with his emerald green eyes sparkling brighter with the Adrenalin coursing through his veins. It made me question everything then. He was still handsome, perhaps even more so for the determination in his frame, the fight still in his eyes and he'd likely been tossed all over the deck by the turbulent sea and the violent wind; and there was I, quite a few steps behind the others due to my knee and a little unsteady on my feet because my head was spinning.

"Mr. Sparrow, we have a need of you upon deck. It appears we have not yet met our last storm."

"Captain; Captain Jack Sparrow!" the pirate announced has he let the officers lead him up another flight of steps.

James threw me a curious look then, as if he was sure I'd been up to something, but then the expression faded and he glanced towards the wooden panelling at my side that I was clutching for dear life. "Your cabin with you Miss, and no arguments!"

He turned and was gone, and for once I was glad of his instructions. I did not dispute them but followed them to the letter. A few moments later I curled up on the bunk of my small cabin and even though the boat was rocking I could still discern that my head was spinning of its own accord. I was oblivious to the sounds from above deck as I tried to fend off the imaginings of what I might have seen, heard and felt if I had kept hold of Mai's hand for just a few seconds longer. Of course my dreams that night were turbulent ones that had me waking every so often. I felt and saw it all again in my mind as I slept, feeling that bag over my head, that rope around my neck. The bowl of water usually placed at the side of my bunk I had emptied over my head to try and cool myself down during the night, and when I woke the empty bowl served as a basin in which I emptied the contents of my stomach repeatedly.

I do not know why the notions of such a death affected me so. Perhaps it was because we'd all head the stories that a hanging could take over an hour even if the neck did not break. Such a long time to be suffering and knowing that the end was approaching. No, in my mind I had always envisioned at least a quicker end for myself. Now Mai was trying to show me that James would be there at my end, trying to help me it seemed. I felt bad for him then because if it were really my uncle he was going up against, he stood little chance against such a man. He was better to stay out of it all and retain his own good name.

When I eventually ventured onto deck that morning, I got a shock. There were men pouring over the maps at the table and others, including the officers and Mr. Hawkins gazing out over the bow or the port side of the ship in indignation and disappointment. I realised we'd reached the northern tip of Madagascar and there were no islands to be seen. I grinned to myself despite my tiredness and moved to dispose of the contents of the bowl from my cabin before anyone saw it. As we drifted, the general mood of all was despondent and annoyed. I supposed that although Mr. Hawkins had been wrong, I might still be right. That's why I'd taken up position sitting on a barrel on the starboard side of the ship, watching the horizon warily. Perhaps I'd been wrong too! Perhaps there were no islands at all to speak of, but that would mean that Jack Sparrow was wrong too, and that rarely happened.

"I cannot believe this!" I heard Hawkins exclaim after a while. "I passed those islands not two years ago, but how can they just vanish like that? I mean, are things like that possible?"

I imagine James rolled his eyes at that, but his back was to me so I couldn't rightly say. I glanced towards the quarterdeck to find Sparrow watching me. He threw me a wink and then nodded as if to tell me to turn around again. Sure enough, he and I were the first to glimpse in the distance what might just have been a group of islands. "Yeah, it's funny that isn't it?" I bellowed across the deck as we began to travel south-west towards the islands that were becoming clearer with each second that passed.

James was at my side in an instant, his telescope brought to one eye as he gazed out towards the islands, a new sense of excitement brewing all around us. Jack Sparrow stepped away from the helm towards us, as much as his shackles would allow. "Imagine that Commodore, eh? A woman proved right, put the cat amongst the pidgeons that will!"

Everyone ignored him. "I believe Miss O'Connell, that you are owed a sincere apology."

* * *

 _ **The caves might make an appearance in the next chapter! What might James and Fiona find if they venture there?**_


	18. Chapter Eighteen - The Tideless Haven

_**Thanks for the reviews Guest and Icar372, (Icar372, I'll be honest; we've had four seasons in one day here so the weather in October is anyone's guess really!) As for Andromeda and Perseus, you'll have to wait and see! ;)**_

 _ **In this chapter, Fiona and Norrington finally come upon some treasure, but will it be what they are expecting?**_

 _ **Chapter Eighteen - The Tideless Haven**_

It's funny really, how quickly attitudes can change. Within moments of our sighting of the islands I was the object of everyone's attention. Most simply wanted to know how I'd managed to recall the placing of such islands in the ocean but a clever few had other things on their minds. Mr. Hawkins of course was quick to act, questioning me about what I knew and if I had that kind of skill with all maps. I tried my best to ignore him, and had Lieutenant Gillette to thank for breaking apart the conversation and sending Mr. Hawkins off with at least five different instructions to keep him occupied.

"Perhaps Miss, you might be inclined to know that the Commodore means to keep Mr. Hawkins aboard _The Surgence_ during any excursions that are made onto these islands. He believes that to be the best course of action," Lieutenant Gillette confirmed as he watched Hawkins amble away. "I think my commanding officer is right to be cautious. Whatever there is to be discovered on these islands, be it treasure of some form or just sand and dust; Mr. Hawkins is poised to use it in whatever way possible. We must therefore ensure that he has as little involvement as possible. It might be prudent of yourself to remain apart from the man as he is sure to try and influence you."

"And I'm like to let someone like Mr. Hawkins influence me am I?" I wasn't that bothered by what he had said really, but I'd grown quite fond of the expressions the officers wore when my sarcasm or mock incredulity took them by surprise.

"That is not what I would expect Miss, but we must keep in the forefront of our minds that Mr. Hawkins will attempt to do so nonetheless, despite any resistance. Keep your distance and report anything you see or hear."

With that he was gone and I was left to ponder what he had said in peace for a while, even though I could readily feel Sparrow's eyes upon me as I kept vigil on my lonely barrel. It seemed that the cantankerous weather had given way to something rather tranquil. Whilst the sun had yet to appear from behind the clouds, the waters were calm and the air was fresh. Within no time we were approaching the islands and we could clearly make out the rugged outcroppings and cavernous rocks that made up the bulk of the islands. There were five in total, which I suppose must have dampened everyone's spirits a little. It had occurred to me that perhaps James thought he'd reach the islands and immediately he'd find a path to whatever treasure he was looking for, but that was not the way to look upon such things. Chances were we'd find nothing whatsoever. Maybe he'd go on forever, sailing in search of the unattainable. I was becoming more unsure with each day that had passed just why he was so determined to change his life in such a way. I understood his grief of course. How could I not when I'd been through something similar myself. I also felt I could sympathise with his romantic loss, but he still seemed so bogged down by it all. I suppose I've never been in love, so even though I felt sorry that he'd been hurt in such a way, I didn't quite understand why he was still trying to prove himself to a woman who did not want him.

He'd make his fortune, make admiral and then parade himself before the woman who chose to marry another. It made little sense to me. If it were me, at that time I thought I'd go somewhere new and meet new people. I thought I'd take myself away from that which had pained me, and attempt to forge some new path. I knew he'd walk somewhat of a new path if he made admiral though. He'd have marriage offers aplenty whether he wanted them or not. He'd be required to marry and to do so as befitted his station. His detached and sometimes cold manner often made me question how he'd ever come to feel for a woman in the first place. He was clearly a career man who wanted to build a name for himself in the first instance, and all other aspects of life were to come second. It had evidently taken James by surprise then to find himself attached to a woman throughout the course of his naval career but he'd fought for her despite everything. It was the conversation I'd shared with him alone that night on deck, when he'd finally admitted that he needed the help of a pirate. There had been something there that had puzzled me. I could be in no doubt afterwards of women finding him attractive, and perhaps even coming to find feelings for the man. There were clearly many different sides to James that in the beginning of our acquaintance I'd overlooked because I was angry and because he'd hidden it so well.

I was struggling to decide whether I liked him or not. I supposed I could readily feel sorry for him even if I was not predisposed to like him. It was to be a lonely life ahead for him if he did not find what he sought. He was aboard a ship with a crew that he admittedly did not trust, and only had a handful of his own men around him for support. He might know companionship in the way of his officers but he more than likely wouldn't come to know that familial companionship of children and a wife because he had deliberately cut himself off from it all. I suppose that was something else I had in common with him even then. Although I'd never been in love and he had, I was also keeping myself from perhaps a more normal life. I could have taken to land somewhere and made my way with perhaps a husband and a family especially after Mick's passing. It had never been a thought that had entered my head though. It was never how I saw my life panning out.

I was broken out of my reverie by a flurry of movement that began around me as the men assembled to disembark the ship. All four rowing boats aboard were being lowered down onto the water's surface to take the crew out to the islands. Jack Sparrow was being escorted back down to the brig, but he was not going quietly. His renewed warnings about the dangers of the islands did make me nervous because the superstitions of pirates have been known to have a basis in truth. I moved off my barrel and further into the deck as the men began to arrange themselves into four groups. With _The Surgence_ about to run aground in the sand the anchor was weighed and Mr. Hawkins scurried forward to beg for a place in one of the smaller boats.

James simply threw a glance my way as Mr. Hawkins pleaded with him. For a while I thought James might eventually give in to him as I moved to help secure a length of rope that had come loose and was threatening to trip everyone up. "Perhaps Mr. Hawkins," I heard James finally announce as I passed him, "You might consider yourself of better use aboard _The Surgence_. We have room enough perhaps for one more but as it was in fact Miss O'Connell who gave us the correct placement of the _Tideless Haven_ do you not think it might be prudent to allow her the chance to venture there herself?"

"What did she do really though Commodore? It was Sparrow who sailed us here. If anyone is to go ashore it should really be him!"

I'd continued walking, not wanting them to know that I could hear what they were discussing, but I turned to observe the blank expression of James's face in the aftermath of Mr. Hawkins' suggestion. Remarkably, he managed to maintain his composure and merely rolled his eyes. "I do not negotiate with pirates Mr. Hawkins as a rule. I have already conceded the freedom of the two female pirates in return for Sparrow's aid. That is more than he deserves. Surely you will also be aware that Sparrow is a flight risk? I've given almost everything to have that pirate in my brig in shackles and I'm not about to give him the chance to escape. That is why I need you aboard Mr. Hawkins. You have a keen eye, and together with two of my officers I am entrusting the safety of my ship and it's crew into your hands."

James caught my eye then. I wondered if he knew that I knew he was lying to Mr. Hawkins. He trusted him as much as he trusted Sparrow. I'd never considered that he'd think of taking Hawkins ashore with him, but I'd also not thought I'd be permitted to go, much less get an invite from James himself. "What say you Miss O'Connell?"

I shook my head a little, my nerves increasing tenfold at the thought of actually venturing ashore on those islands. "What need would you have of me Commodore? Won't I just get in the way?"

He was walking towards me then, seeming to forget Mr. Hawkins altogether. He says he knew I was superstitious and that he wanted to break me out of that way of thinking a little by taking me out to those islands. "If I had thought you might get in the way Miss, I would not have made the invitation. Indeed you've become rather adept at remaining on the fringes since you first boarded this ship." He turned to ensure that Hawkins was indeed busying himself again before he continued. "I also must consider the consequences of leaving you aboard this ship in the company of Mr. Hawkins. Miss you are aware of my distrust of the man, and shy of keeping him at my own side throughout the day there is little else I can do to ensure that he has no part in our search of these islands. Indeed if I kept him by my side I could readily watch him myself but then as I said, there would not be place enough for you in one of the boats."

I thought there was a slight flaw in his reasoning. I weighed very little really, and I reckon I could have easily fitted into one of the boats somewhere without causing it to readily sink. It did occur to me though that perhaps he did not want Mr. Hawkins and myself left alone together aboard _The Surgence_ even though two officers would be staying behind. I glanced around me and saw Lieutenants Thompson and Gillette taking charge of a rowing boat each. They were the Commodore's most trusted men now and two of very few people I had to talk to. With only Mr. Hawkins for company above deck I'd be almost asking for trouble. Going down into the brig would only give him the opportunity to corner me as well.

My palms were sweating though as I tried to decided what to do. James was watching me closely as I allowed my own superstitious mind to run wild. What if what Sparrow said was really true? What if none of us came back from those islands? Mick had saved my life all those months ago when he pushed me down out of the way and I was finding it hard to reconcile myself to the fact I'd be throwing my life away by stepping into one of those rowing boats. Us superstitious people don't really have a rational way of thinking when in such situations, and a name like _The Tideless Haven_ wasn't helping matters. There had to be some sort of reason why people were afraid to go there, even pirates like Sparrow who had nothing at all to loose. The way James was looking at me made me feel about three inches tall. He thought I was being foolish, I could tell. It wasn't foolish to me though. I'd been brought up believing that the strangest things could occur at any time and I couldn't really remember a time when Jack Sparrow had been completely and utterly wrong.

Could I refuse such an invitation though? What if they all went out in their rowing boats and came back some time later with nothing to report? I'd really feel foolish then. Mick would have laughed at me and kicked me over into one of the boats without a second of hesitation. He was superstitious just like I am, but he liked to challenge his own views because he thought it made him more open-minded. He's right in a way. Mick always was able to see both sides of an argument fairly. Perhaps I needed to take a leaf out of his book and challenge myself. Didn't I want to see this _Crown of Immortality_ in all of it's glory if it was truly a material object waiting to be found beyond the shallow waters on one of those islands?

More than anything though, I didn't want James to laugh at me and think me simple. That's something I've never been although I readily admit that being afraid of some caves might have you thinking otherwise reader. No, I'd been brave before and could be so again. I nodded my agreement and said nothing because my mouth was suddenly very dry, my heart racing as James turned back towards his men to give them his final instructions.

I don't know how I should explain what I felt as we approached the shore. Whilst still in the boat I felt uneasy, and the fact that James appeared quite confident and assured didn't really reassure me any. Indeed it was only as I finally took one step out of the boat and my foot broke the surface of the water that something within me changed. The water was lukewarm against the skin of my ankle and oh so promising. I moved slower than I usually would, conscious of my bad knee and how easily I could show myself up in front of everyone. When both my feet were in the water, I began to feel a little more safety. It was as if my subconscious was telling me there was danger on the seas and security ashore of the islands. I glanced around quickly as I realised for the first time that we were not all upon the same island. The other three boats had reached the other islands too and the men were disembarking.

James was going to find something. I knew it as I waded through the mere inches of water to the sandy beach that lay spread out before us. I don't know where the unbidden thought came from but something within me knew that there was some form of magic around us. I recalled the first time I'd gone to see Tia Dalma and the fear I'd felt as we climbed from a boat onto the walkway bridge that neared her home on water. I'd felt the magic then, clear as day. I'd also felt her hate and desperation, but there was nothing like that here. The island held a serene kind of beauty that I could admire standing upon it. It did not seem so menacing. Sparrow's words came back to me and my mind recoiled at the thought that the Island was already luring me in. Perhaps if I'd been as calculating as James I'd have seen things differently enough to embrace the ease that was threatening to overwhelm me.

Rocks of all different shape and size littered the beach, as if some archaic monster had spat them out sporadically. Tufts of yellowing grass grew here and there around the rocks, and also against the rock face in which there was very clearly the entrance to a cave. A stream flowed out to the sea from the cave, meaning we'd have to get our feet wet entering the cave. I glanced down at my own little lotus shoes compared with the black leather boots that belonged to James. He was much better equipped for that kind of thing in practicality even if he were not so open minded. No, I was beginning to feel that from there on out I was to be the one with the spiritual connection to the island. James was all hope and desperation, or at least I thought he was.

When he came to stand beside me on the beach I sensed some new kind of authority in his stance, as if he knew that he was destined to be there. Before I knew what was happening, he'd ordered the rest of the men from our boat back into it and they were to row to the other side of the island to explore what looked like a wooded area. Trees were visible beyond the rock face that looked as if no one would ever try to climb it and of course James was not a man to do things by halves. He clearly wanted this over and done with quickly, else he would not have separated his men into smaller groups. He watched for a moment or two as the men scrambled back into the boat apprehensively and began to row themselves backward until they had enough momentum to turn and skirt around the island.

Then he was striding forward towards the rock face, his destination clearly the cave opening. I was still stood on the beach, trying to decipher why I suddenly felt so at peace with everything. It should be the last thought in my head considering all that I'd heard from Sparrow, but I was not disturbed at all any more by superstition. It was the oddest sensation to know that James was about to find something which would change his life forever once he crossed that threshold, and I'd always know that I'd been a part of it. He stepped back a little from the opening and turned to look at me expectantly, as if I was to follow him willingly. I made my feet move so that I stepped a little closer to him.

"Why have you dismissed your men?" I asked him boldly, sure that I was not likely to get an answer. "Surely it's going to take more than two of us to search this cave?"

"They were uneasy here, could you not tell?" James asked her pointedly. "Perhaps Miss you are not the only one to let Mr. Sparrow's words affect the rational mind."

"Who says I've a rational mind to begin with?" I quipped lightheartedly but he did not laugh or smile or smirk.

"You may chose not to call upon it often, but there is a rationallity hidden beneath your exterior Miss, that you perhaps have yet to discover yourself. How else would you have come to determine where these islands were, or that the right thing do do with such knowledge was to approach myself?"

"That was rational was it?" Trying for humour seemed all I could do to mask the strange sense of belonging I felt just standing before the mouth of the cave with James. Somehow I think I knew that he was seeing though all of it though. "I've helped you and now I'll be known for that and only that. I've pitted myself against not just Sparrow's crew but any pirates upon the sea. I've landed myself in a rather precarious position indeed. I cannot go back home, but I am also in danger upon the sea. I don't quite know about you Commodore, but I think it was rather irrational to step up like that and offer you what I knew. I knew it even at the time."

"But you still did so?" he asked as he raised a brow.

I had no answer to give him though and turned my attention towards the fissure before us that was shrouded in darkness. It was drawing me in as nothing ever had before. Now of course I may compare the feeling to perhaps the first time I would go back to Ireland. It was as if I were travelling home again. Back then I knew not what that feeling was obviously. I had yet to return home back then, for fear someone would recognise me and place me before my uncle. I shivered a little as I recalled my dream and I had to take into consideration that if what Mai said was true, I was going to meet with my uncle before long and I was going to hang by his decree.

"Shall we?" James asked with a decided nod towards the cave opening and I agreed solemnly. I felt that there was not a lot to fear from the cave when I was to meet such a foul end. Perhaps I should stay hidden in the cave and beg James to go on back to _The Surgence_ without me. He was a gentleman, so I knew it would take some persuasion to get him to even consider such a thing but perhaps that was the only way to avoid meeting my uncle again. Or perhaps that was what the cave wanted me to think. Perhaps by staying I was placing myself directly into the path of my uncle.

I was startled into action then as I realised James no longer stood beside me, but had vanished into the darkness that was the long tunnel before me. I followed, sure that James would have had to duck because I could reach up and touch the gravel-like texture of the tunnel ceiling above my head. I moved on a little, following the sound of James's footsteps ahead of me in near darkness as his boots splashed in and out of the little stream that lined the floor for a few moments before I began to notice some strange new light that was emerging from around James's form. It was an odd sort of glow that was neither gold or green but somewhere in between. The low ceiling vanished from above us and we found ourselves in a vast cave that was very tall indeed. James shuffled sideways onto a ledge that seemed to be the only spot free of the shallow waters that took up nearly all of the cave.

I glanced sideways at him and caught the glow of the room upon his face. He was otherworldly to me then. It was as if he'd been brought back to life by this visit to the cave. He was almost smiling as he stared down into the clear as crystal water. I realised then that he knew too, that there was something to be found here. I was not alone in my feelings. Was that why he had sent his men away; so that he could claim all of the glory? If so, it made little sense that he had brought me along with him. Unless of course he had other intentions. How much did he really know about my recalling of the islands on a map? Perhaps he knew what I could do; what I had been trying to suppress for months lest anyone try to use my ability.

"What is that?" he asked suddenly as he leaned out to stare down into the cool water. The way the ominous light caught his eyes then really was like magic. They sparkled brightly despite the fact we were still shrouded in almost darkness. He began to follow the path of the ledge by shuffling his feet along, his back against the rough stone of the cave walls.

Eventually I gave in to curiosity and copied him in looking out over the pool. It was not just a bed of sand that lay below the water. There were metal objects here and there. The water was not deep so I lifted the hem of my skirt up a few inches and tied it just below my knee. James was watching me curiously and I couldn't help but laugh. "There's only one way to find out!" With that I stepped off the ledge into the water, my shoes landing in the trinket strewn bed. I waded out a bit before I turned and grinned as I caught sight of James still stood upon the ledge. "There I thought you were a Navy man!" I moved on then, chuckling as I went. I reached down and pulled out a handful of coins and gems from the bed of the pool and they felt weightless in my hands. They were real though, there was no mistaking it. Then my foot brushed against something more sturdy and I knew it was a much larger chunk of metal.

"What is this place?" I heard James ask as I reached down again under the water. What I brought up in my hands was heavier this time, and much more of an odd thing to find in such a place than treasure.

"Is this what I think it is?" I asked as I turned around and held out the gold impliment to James. There was surely a piece or two missing from the triangular golden frame, namely a mirror but the telescope was still in place. I waded back towards James and handed the sextant over to him as I glimpsed similar objects beneath the surface. "I wonder if a ship sank near here and that's how all of this came to be in this cave?"

"No," James replied straight away. "How could it? There's no tide. Look at the water! When we stood upon the beach it appeared that the water flowed from the cave down to the water's edge across the beach, but this water is not moving. There's no tide. _The Tideless Haven_."

"Then how?" I asked even as James seemed to spot something else of interest.

He was pointing to something breaking the surface of the water towards the middle of the pool. I waded out again, feeling my shoes become heavier with each step as the water and sand began to weigh them down. The light faded a little as I reached the middle of the pool and at once recognised a leather map holder. The cylindrical object was firmly planted in the sand though when I gave it a push. I tore off the lid and inside I observed many rolled up sheets that could well be maps. My curiosity was piqued and I replaced the lid only to begin fighting to free the holder. I pushed and shoved and tugged but it wouldn't budge. On one particular try in which I threw all my strength against the holder my knee gave way and I slipped. I fell backwards into the water and though it wasn't deep I was fairly soaked. Splashing to my feet again, I heard more splashing behind me and James appeared at my side. In the near darkness he examined the holder with his hands a few times before he pulled free a leather strap and pulled. Still nothing. I grabbed onto the holder again as he tugged and it seemed that with the strength of both of us it was finally easing it's way out of the thickened sand.

When it finally came away and we were able to pull it free, I tore off the lid again in eagerness of seeing it's contents more clearly but James shook his head and pointed. Sure enough, there was some new form of light that was barely visible from where we stood. We waded on through the water as a doorway emerged out of the gloom and with it a strange sense of homeliness on my part. "Can you smell that?" I asked James as he stepped up onto the ledge again. "It smells like..." I'd been about to say home but I stopped myself. There was something fresh and spring-like in the air suddenly and I felt as if I could have been standing in a field back home in Ireland if it hand't been for the cave I could see all around me. "It smells like a fresh summer's day."

James nodded but stayed silent. He held out a hand to help me onto the ledge and together we shuffled around towards this new doorway. It resembled the previous tunnel in every way except that the light was brighter as we emerged into a second cave much the same size as the one before. I didn't hesitate and waded out into the water again to find a bed of coins beneath my feet. I began to lift handfuls at random as I went, not paying much attention to James behind me. Every handful I picked and dropped back into the water brought up the same coins though; Irish coins. with my sixth handful I turned back towards James and held out the bronze coins with a harp on one side and the figure head of King George on the other. James took a coin from my outstretched hand to examine it and I stuffed the rest into the pocket of my skirt, unable to resist the chance to take a piece of home with me even though they were only pennies.

"I've travelled this far around the world just to find Irish coins here!" I exclaimed as I turned to take in the cave around me. I left James where he stood and moved on, suddenly eager to find more within the cave that I might have a connection with. Sure enough I found it. There was no ledge at the other side of the cave, but what was at first glance a grassy bank. As I reached it I saw another doorway ahead of me but my attention was all but caught by the greenery around me. "Clovers?" I asked to the cave in general as my feet touched the green cushion. "How on earth are clovers growing here? They aren't something that can be planted!"

There was a steady path of clovers leading though into the tunnel this time instead of water and I followed them gladly, somehow aware that I was almost following breadcrumbs. I heard James's quick boot steps behind me after a moment or two, and I emerged into what resembled golden sunlight just seconds before he did. I heard him gasp from behind me, not realising what he'd caught sight of until a moment or two later. I took in the vast ceiling and the deep murky pool that yet again took up almost all of the cave. The only exception was a slab of rock at the other side, with a rickety wooden bridge connecting us to it. I was ready to race forward onto it until I glanced up and realised there was no door opposite us. I scanned around and there was no door anywhere. I turned back towards the slab of rock, the glint of gold catching my eye. There was something on the slab. I stepped forward as much as I could without placing my feet in the bridge and starred out at what James must have noticed when he emerged from the tunnel.

"Well Commodore, that doesn't look quite like a crown but I'm sure a golden sword is still treasure enough."

* * *

 _ **So James and Fiona have stumbled accross a sword, any guesses as to what it could be?**_

 _ **I hope the caves I have in my head and scribbled a diagram of in a random notebook came to life here, although I'm sure that bit could do with a bit more work. For now I think it's enough to lead on into the next chapter; in which we see if Fiona and James are really up to getting their hands on that treasure, and James proves a bit cleverer than he looks!**_


	19. Chapter Nineteen - A Debt Repaid

**_Thank you to the guest and Icar372 for the reviews! I'm afraid you'll have to patiently wait to find out more about the sword, but there have already been a few hints as to what it might be or who it might have belonged to! You're both right in that there will be the slightest of tests to get to the sword, but I think the real test for them will be what it is and what it can do!_**

 ** _In this chapter, James pays of a debt, and Fiona's cover might just be blown..._**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Nineteen - A Debt Repaid_**

 ** _James Joyce - He Who Hath Glory Lost_**

 _He who hath glory lost, nor hath_  
 _Found any soul to fellow his,_  
 _Among his foes in scorn and wrath_  
 _Holding to ancient nobleness,_  
 _That high unconsortable one -_  
 _His love is his companion._

* * *

It was as if we were stood outside on the beach again, and the sun had come out from behind the clouds to greet us. The warm light within the cavern was astounding, but as much as I searched I could see no opening in the ceiling, no candle sconces in the walls or torches. It was an organic kind of light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. There was a warmth to the cave that somehow had nothing to do with the temperature, and everything to do with a sense of belonging. I wanted to get lost in that feeling, to float away on it so that I never had to feel any pain ever again.

I only broke out of those thoughts when James stepped forward and placed one foot on the rickety bridge before us. It was not wide enough for him to place his two feet side by side as it was barely four inches in width. As he shifted his weight onto that one foot the planks of wood began to move, creaking as they pressed down further into the murky water. James moved backwards again, his face full of concentration and determination. It was clear he'd come all that way for treasure and he wasn't leaving without the sword. I suppose back then I just thought he needed it to put his life back on the path he so dearly wished to walk. I did not realise that there were other elements at work that day until James thought it right to tell me a considerable while later.

He'd felt as I did when he landed on the beach, that there was some unearthly air about the place that made him almost tear off the gold banding and needlework from his uniform and forget his naval rank altogether for he suddenly felt he no longer needed it. It was no longer important. He felt that same sense of belonging, as if he'd been to the beach as a child and had longed to return again for many years to delight in the memories. It was the last cave of the three that gave him the strangest and yet most welcome feeling. He felt he was destined to have that sword, and that it was his from then onward. I knew nothing of this of course, because back then we did no talk so. No one did except perhaps Mai and Jack Sparrow. They could get away with it down in the brig though. I would have, if I'd thought anyone on deck might actually listen to me. It occurred to me that his choosing to bring me with him to the cave might mean that was about to change though.

I spoke first, suddenly sure about what would need to happen for him to actually get the sword. "Meaning no offence Commodore, but I don't think you'll be the best person to be fetching that sword. This water is deep, so I'd say it'd be safer if I cross the bridge. Unless you'll be wanting to remove that heavy uniform of yours it might be better if I try."

It was the look he gave me then, full of appreciation and yet trepidation. "I was going to suggest that some of my men break down one of the boats and use the wood to strengthen the bridge Miss O'Connell."

"There was me thinking you didn't want anyone else in here Commodore because you don't trust them?" I asked him coyly. "If you want to make that bridge safe, it'll take more than two of us. Sure I'll skip over it and back in no time." I was already slipping off my water clogged shoes to approach the bridge in my bare feet.

"I would not ask you to do such a thing, nor can I permit it," he replied. "Perhaps Mr. Hawkins was right; we should have brought Sparrow with us after all. The loss would not be so great then if the bridge were to collapse."

"Yeah because you'd likely leave him in that murky pool Commodore," I cried in an attempt at humour. "It might not even be that deep though. I moved towards the bridge and gingerly placed one foot upon the wood as James had done moments before. I felt the bridge move a little, but I was sure it would hold my weight better than it would James's. Before he could stop me I placed my other foot on the wood too, so I no longer had any weight upon the rock outcropping behind me. I moved slowly, my confidence growing slightly as I got a few steps away from James.

"Miss O'Connell, I can see the bridge moving from here! Tarry a little. Keep your pace slow." I'd expected him to scold me, but I suppose he'd recognised in me by then an independent streak that was ever present. He knew to take annoyance at me would only aggravate me in the end.

"Awk sure how hard can it be," I called back to him as I gazed out at the ledge on which the sword lay, which seemed to have grown no closer. I'd not really taken into account the real distance I'd have to cover in crossing the bridge until I was upon it. it was at least thirty yards in length and explained why it was quite so unsteady. Without much movement of the bridge at all I managed to reach the other side and climb onto the ledge that awaited me.

The sword was unlike any I'd ever seen before. I'd seen curved swords in my time, but the gold one before me was a whole different kettle of fish. It had the original and rather common shape of a shorter broad sword, the same breadth until where it tapered to a point at it's tip, but there was also a rather sickle type shape protruding from one side near the tip, almost resembling a scythe. I reached my hand out to touch the odd shaped blade and then sharply pulled it back, Sparrow's words echoing in my head. We'd managed to reach that far though, and here I was before treasure itself. I could see the sword was very old, with engravings from the hilt right down the centre of the blade and a worn strap of what must have once been red leather wrapped from it to the pommel. There was another inscription on the pommel, but it was not something I was able to make out. It was worn away in places, as if the use of the sword in a strong hand had worn away the precious writing over the years. How cruel a trick it would be if I could not take the sword back to James and present him with the treasure he was so longing for to save his life. Could it really be true that we would not leave the cave again? I'd lived my life by some of the folklore I was told as a child up until that point, so I think it's fair to say I was susceptible to such superstitions as Sparrow had laid before me.

I reached my hand out again towards the blade, much slower this time. I wondered how heavy it might be, even as my mind told me it would weigh a lot. It was not a sword like the one belonging to James. James's own sword was a thin steel blade that had been finely crafted. Sparrow told me on one of my many trips down to the brig that William Turner hammered the blade himself. I found it rather curious, that James carried around a sword made by the man who'd taken away from him his beloved Miss Swan. There was a real craftsmanship to the blade though; even I could admit that. I was used to seeing well worn blades that had swapped hands for years and years. Pretty swords like James's were expensive so I suppose only a Commodore could afford one. The blade before me was much older, and a lot thicker and broader. If I held it in the palm of my hand it would entirely cover all four of my fingers. it had been hammered differently too, perhaps because it appeared to be solid gold. my fingers grazed the worn leather above the hilt and I ever so gently grasped it in my fist. It felt right. There was no other way to describe it. It was warm to the touch, seeming to hum and sing as I lifted it gingerly from the stone on which it lay and held it up before me.

 _"...Do not be afraid to use it..."_

My head snapped around to stare out across the bridge towards James, but I knew by the look of him that he had not spoken or heard the disembodied voice that sounded just like his own. The voice had been so clear though, right beside my ear. He appeared to have noticed my abrupt shock because his brow furrowed in concern. "Solid gold..." I called to him to try and fill the void. I was wondering if he too could hear the music the sword seemed to make or if it was all in my head. "It's solid gold!"

I turned around fully on the ledge slowly while James watched me intently. His eyes were immediately drawn to the sword and he watched it with a hungry curiosity as I gingerly placed one foot back onto the perilous bridge. I think we were both holding our breath. I'd half expected the bridge to crumble away, leaving me stranded on my lonely ledge. I don't think James would have left me there though. Even back then I think I knew he was no longer seeing me as some kind of means to an end. He saw me as a human being at least, but I think perhaps there was something more. There was a kind of reluctant grudging respect I think, because James knew I was no pushover and because I saw things as they were, and said them in much the same way.

I glanced between him and my feet continually as I began to cross. I moved much more slowly upon my return journey as I was carrying precious cargo, but the bridge seemed much more unstable. I felt it wobble a little as I lifted one of my feet and my knees jerked. I lurched to one side as the weight of the sword in one of my hands threatened to drag me into the murky water. I was torn between keeping my balance and keeping a grip of the sword. My heart was beating wildly as my legs continued to wobble. The plank of wood that my feet rested upon seemed to dip in the middle suddenly, and on instinct I moved forwards just in time as it crumbled away behind me into the water below. The movement helped me restore some of my balance, and I tried to calm my ragged breaths even as I could still feel my heart pounding. I don't know why, but I was sure that the water below me was extremely deep. If I fell in I might not come out again.

I glanced up at James, who appeared poised to cross the bridge himself towards me. I shook my head at him meekly. "We don't know how much more weight this bridge can take!"

"Hold the sword in both of your hands and put them out in front of you, at chest level," he called to me. I did as he said, trying not to catch my fingers on the sickle that protruded from the blade. "Now concentrate on the weight of it. Try and hold the sword where you feel it's equally balanced on both sides. It will help with your own balance."

"There's the navy man I know," I called out to him as I followed his instructions. I sensed the logic in his words and began to move my feet again. "I can't see my me feet though."

"Don't look down!" he called. "Just look at me." I glanced up at him again and he was right, he was perfectly aligned with the bridge.

I moved again, even more slowly this time. Even though the sword was warm to the touch and weirdly felt quite comfortable to hold, it was very heavy though and I had to fight to keep my arms up. I could feel the bridge begin to move again though, as if it was not pleased that the sword had left the ledge. Of course the cave might try to put up some fight. I don't know why I hadn't considered that it would. I was about half way across when I began to think I would not make it all of the way. I kept going though, not sure if James could see the growing doubt on my face. An idea formed in my head and as soon as I thought I was within throwing distance of the other side I stopped.

"I think I should throw this to you!" I lifted the sword towards James's right to ensure I would not hit him with it and aimed for the ground near his feet. "I don't think this bridge is going to hold for much longer."

I saw the panic in his eyes a second before I released the sword from my hands and it flew through the air. I felt the bridge really begin to move beneath me then as it protested our pillage of the cave's treasure. I just glimpsed James's fist reaching out to clasp the pommel of the sword in his fist and under other circumstances I might have wondered how on earth he'd managed to catch it considering I'd deliberately aimed away from him. I didn't have time for such thoughts though. The murky water was angry, the thrashing waves rising on either side of me as the bridge finally gave way completely beneath my feet. It was as if the waves could reach out to grasp my wrist and drag me down again with them and although I'd never before felt any kind of fear of water, the splashes reaching my arms in those few seconds had me jerking from side to side away from them. I unwillingly plunged forwards suddenly and felt my own eyes widening in fear as I was sure I'd hit my head on the outcropping. There was a distant clang, somehow muffled by the roaring of the water as I felt the first initial shocks of the freezing cold water as it crashed against my legs.

There was a tightness then around my upper arm and I was pulled upwards. Where I thought I might have hit my head, my knee suffered instead. It collided with the side of the rocky bank of the pool as with one hand clasped around my upper arm, James was able to pull me free of freezing water and I placed my hand in his other offered one as he helped me back onto dry land. I don't know how I managed to stay standing, but all I can recollect now from those moments afterwards is that the pain in my knee was excruciating. I stood precariously with all my weight on one foot and I suppose I must have been hoping that James wouldn't notice. The memory of the pain has blanked all other details from my mind. In the days afterwards it would come to my mind that James might have intended to boast of having saved my life twice after pulling me from the raging pool. Whatever he considered it, I could now readily agree with him in that he had re-paid Mick's debt. I'd sensed the pull that water had, and if I'd gone in, I know I wouldn't have come out again. If James hadn't been as quick to throw away the sword and reach out to help me, I'd have ended up at the bottom of that pool.

We stood gazing at each other in the warm glow of the cave, both trying to catch our breath. The golden sword, the precious treasure that James had fought so hard to find lay discarded a few feet away where he'd thrown it so that he could reach out to catch me. His hand was still holding tightly to my arm, my hand still clutched in his other hand as if he thought I might slip backwards into the water behind me which was now eerily calm. I watched the gentle ripples that had seconds before been monstrous waves almost tearing at the skin of my legs. Somehow the fact that the water had grown so calm made me more on edge, more keen to leave the caves. I had assumed James would have been transfixed by the same thing, but when I turned my head back around to observe him, he was already gazing down at me; or what was hanging around my neck to be exact. I'd taken the habit over the last week or two of tucking my necklace away beneath my shirt out of sight as his constant staring at it had unnerved me a little but when I'd plunged forward in the water it must have fallen loose and now lay on top of my wet shirt. It was as if he'd forgotten I was even there and the necklace was hanging in mid-air. I can't tell you why I was so reluctant to just ask him what it was about my jewellery that had him so mesmerised. I knew it was nothing of importance, but those men who'd attacked me for it in Tortuga certainly had thought it special. It appeared that James did too. Of course I could have just taken the thing off and given it to him. It was something from home that I weirdly cherished but would I really be any worse off without it?

He'd realised I was aware of his gaze and his eye line shifted. He released his hold of me and stepped back, his expression slightly guilty and his cheeks reddening a little. I realised then that he was worried that I'd thought he was looking at my breasts. The thought made me want to laugh. I'd never known a man less concerned with the attributes of a woman's form than him. It really was a marvel to me that any woman had been able to turn his head. But of course Miss Swann would no doubt be the perfect kind of beauty, with a pleasing mouth when she spoke and dainty little hands that she might drape around his arm as they walked together. He was in love with the idea of a woman he might take as a wife to place in his perfect home. It occurred to me then that he might not have even considered her figure. It was one of the reasons I didn't feel threatened by him as a woman might any other man of power. Men of power liked to gain more power by making women feel inferior, by forcing their advances onto women they found attractive. That gave them some weird notion of control. James did not think of women that way though. He'd not force me into a corner of that kind. In that respect I was safe.

The waters of the previous cave soothed my pain a little as I waded through them without much thought. I was soaked to the skin anyway so I considered the warmer water a bit of a blessing. I even managed to suppress a grin as James made his way carefully around the ledge on the outskirts of the cave rather than cut through the water. I'd reached the doorway before him and moved on through the next cave. I was half expecting something untoward to happen, but the other half of me was somehow certain that I was safe. I waded through the crystal clear water slowly, paying attention to all of the objects and trinkets beneath the surface. Mostly I didn't want to catch my foot upon something and trip in front of James, but I was intrigued by the objects also. It hadn't escaped my notice that we'd stumbled across sea faring implements and Irish coins within the trio of caves. It was almost as if it had been designed with us both in mind, but I wondered if it would appear as something else to another pair. Was that the magic of the cave; to build connections with those who pillaged it?

The smell of the sea air accosted me suddenly where I stood, and I clambered onto the ledge and waded through the beginnings of the stream and out into the precious sunlight. Despite my feelings of comfort inside the first two caves we'd entered I was suddenly sorrily glad to be feeling the free air upon my skin again and in my hair. The sea had never appeared more inviting to me from across the plain of sand that lay between myself and it. I stood for a moment and breathed in the sea air. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the waves gently breaking upon the sand before they washed out again. Whilst it would be too secluded a spot for myself to consider inhabiting, I could certainly appreciate what the benefits of such a life might be. It would be lonely to be sure, but perhaps after so long being always surrounded by people with no escape as there is no respite from others upon a ship, I was considering that some solitude might serve to soothe my nerves a little.

I only moved from the opening of the cave when I heard James's footsteps splashing in the stream behind me. I turned and appraised him, golden sword in hand and not a fibre out of place. It must be some form of naval training, to always look your best even under the most stressful circumstances. I did wonder at James not being too warm in his wool coat as it was tolerably warm for myself even in thin wet clothes. At once his attention was for the beach and for his men who had yet to return to collect us on their journey back to _The Surgence._ I suppose we never paid much attention to how long we spent in those caves but the sun was high in the sky and I judged it to be early afternoon.

I held my shoes in my hand and the coarse grains of sand felt sweet against the hardened skin of my feet. It had been something I'd always done when Mick made port. I always made a point wherever we were of finding a beach and letting the sand grains smooth the skin of my tired feet. I began to walk a little, not sure whether James wanted to wait for his friends or attempt to make it to the other side of the island to find them. My knee began to lock as I walked though, and I found myself having to lean against one of the larger rocks embedded in the sand under the pretence of gazing out at the ocean. I sensed James near me within minutes. He'd taken a seat on one of the rocks nearby and pulled his hat off. He was examining the sword that lay flat in his lap and I recalled that a man with such an education as his might just be able to read whatever engravings there were upon the sword. "Do you know what that says?" I asked after long minutes of silence. "Can you read whatever that is?"

"It is ancient Greek, Miss O'Connell." His curt reply told me he was a little annoyed at my breaking of his concentration, so I pulled myself up to sit on the rock I was leaning on, and realised I'd made myself the perfect height to look directly into his eyes if he glanced back up from the sword in his lap. I stayed silent and let him think as I pondered his profile. Out here in the sun there was not much that could be hidden away and I couldn't help admiring his frame. It's true the world over that passion can be a very attractive quality when it is directed well. Indeed there was a new determination within James that made him seem somehow magnetic. He was wholeheartedly focused on survival and I believe I needed that kind of influence around me even if I could not fathom how he found it in himself to remain so strong for so long.

At length his attention left the sword, and he seemed deep in thought as he gazed out at the ocean. "Do you suppose it will be treasure enough then?" I asked with a nod to the sword. "It is solid gold after all."

"It was not what I was asked to retrieve, but I think it just might. I cannot make out the inscription for it is faded in places, but it is most certainly ancient Greek."

"Your benefactor will be happy with it then?"

James threw me peculiar look then. "Perhaps. _If_ I decide to gift him the sword."

"So you're planning on keeping it for yourself then?" I was more than a little shocked that he had considered betraying the man who was poised to give James everything that he wanted. "Don't you need this man on side? Don't you need his influence in London, Commodore? I thought you had your heart set on the admiralty."

"I do." There was an unnerving calmness to him then, as if he had expected this kind of conversation. "I believe it will be obvious to you Miss O'Connell, but when the crew return with the boats, I would appreciate it if this conversation stayed here on this deserted beach."

I nodded even as I tried to work him out. If he betrayed my uncle, he'd know all about it. Perhaps I'd have to try and push him towards handing the sword over so that he might live to tell the tale. "This benefactor of yours, I suppose he won't take kindly to you going back on your word?"

"I think perhaps Sir Sidney might consider my reneging on our deal a true betrayal." James moved the sword, letting it gently lean against the rock he was sitting on so that he could sit up straighter. "I think though that he is the kind of man who could not be pleased if the whole world landed at his feet. There are other things he wants; things I myself might class as more important than gold or immortality." I could feel some nerve in my stomach standing to attention then, as if I subconsciously knew James was speaking of me. "I know that Mr. Hawkins has attempted to fill your head with many silly nonsense's over the course of our voyage together but I believe he will have told you one truth. Sir Sidney's niece went missing some years ago from his London house. Every possible thing was done to discover her, but as she was not to be traced on land, Sidney believes she may have reached as far as the sea. Some question his logic of course. It is entirely possible that the young woman died a long time ago, and that she's no longer to be found. I first thought such notions of finding this woman might be entirely ludicrous, but I must concede that Sidney seems to have some form of knowledge that he does not impart to anyone else. He is so certain of the fact, so sure that this young woman was taken from him and dragged out to sea."

I tried to ignore the implying that if a woman like myself was upon the sea it was not because she was there by choice but that she must have met some foul means because of course to James I was entirely different to the young woman that he spoke of. I turned away from him and tried to appear indifferent. "I mean, finding mythical treasures is one thing Commodore, but finding people who perhaps have no want of being found? That's much harder I think."

"It is?" he queried. "I have always been inclined to believe that ultimately people show themeselves for what they really are. It is much harder to find a place within the world where a person may not be discovered. You see Miss, we have a natural hunger for food and water and a desire for connection with our surronundings and perhaps even other poeple. In as such, a person who fits this mould should be hard to miss."

"What if she's not like everyone else Commodore? As a woman I think I am qualified to tell you that you underestimate us all a little bit. We're capable of a great deal!" I was still not looking at him, but rather out towards the sea, where in the distance I could make out the sails of The Surgence, pure and white against the periwinkle blue of the sky.

"So you have shown Miss O'Connell," he agreed belatedly. "Can we really believe that a young woman of such standing would have the same skill set as yourself though? Would she have the determination and the acute knowledge of human nature that you seem to possess?"

"She might you know," I replied solemnly. "Regardless of that, it would be quite the task to find her I think. We're good at going to ground, us women. What were you expecting; for her to just walk aboard The Surgence one day and present herself to you? Would you really expect to find such a woman aboard your ship? You really think she's that easy to find?"

There was silence for a beat. Then, "I thought I had already found her."

It was how he said it, rather than what he actually said that had my jaw dropping. I tried to school my features into an expression of incredulity as I slowly turned to face him. There was no way for me to deny his statement when I saw such certainty in his eyes though; he knew who I was.

"How long have you known?" I asked carefully.

* * *

 _ **So, does James really know who Fiona is? How will they both handle this new turn of events? Can Fiona trust James with her secrets?**_

 _ **We'll find out in the next chapter, and it wouldn't be Fiona if she didn't argue with James now would it? ;)**_


	20. Chapter Twenty - A Decent Man

_**Thanks for the reviews as ever!**_

 _ **To the guest, there's going to be a few Perseus and Andromeda hints and clues scattered here and there for you all to pick up! I think Fiona has an inkling but how long will it take James to see them? I love that you think the necklace is important! There's a bit of information on the necklace about 3/4 chapters away but it might not come from who you think!**_

 _ **Icar372, there's going to be a lot of trust build up in the next lot of chapters! In my planning it was purely still on a friendly basis but I think Fiona's run ahead of me on that one and there's a few romantic notions from her side certainly. The real romance is still a little way off as James is so stiff and I think a bit awkward that it will take him time to warm up a bit. Your comments about James maybe being up to something more than he's letting on is interesting! After all he is an intelligent man and he'd have had a good education in the navy. I think he does have a dark side that we might see a spark or two of but this chapter should sum up how he's feeling about Fiona's real identity for the moment!**_

 _ **In this chapter, we find out just how much James Norrington knows about Fiona, and how she will take it all!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty - A Decent Man**_

"That you are in fact Niamh Lefroy, Sir Sidney's niece? I've known for quite some time now." His expression was blank, but not stern and that gave me a little hope.

"But you said nothing, why did you not say something?"

James gazed at me curiously. "Did you want me to know? Ask yourself that. For I observed in you quite a reluctance to have your story known. It was clear to me that your leaving London and your uncle's home was a choice you made readily. You wish for a life at sea, and are content with it. I was convinced of your not wishing to return to such a life. I was reluctant to speak of it aboard such a ship where not all ears are kind."

"Your friend was right," I mumbled. "You are a decent man. Lieutenant Groves; right before he passed he told me to tell you who I was. That you'd...well I suppose he thought you'd not hand me straight over to my uncle."

James was watching me curiously, as if waiting for me to trip up on my own words. "But you did not. Miss I must ask you; did you think that I would send word to your uncle?"

I shook my head at him slightly, not entirely sure what kind of answer he was after. "I just... I don't know." I shrugged and glanced out towards where the sea met the horizon again to try and give myself some time to think. "I did not know you well, Commodore. I still feel that I do not. You are an ambitious man, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. The thing is I was sailing with pirates and lets be honest, I don't look up to much now let alone then. I thought you'd hand me over without a second thought. Silly little country girl throwing her toys out of her crib and attracting attention, that's what I thought you'd think of me. In my mind I thought other people would think me spoilt and foolish. To the outside world I was so lucky. There I was with nothing back in Ireland, and suddenly my rich uncle from London was favouring me. I'd been plucked from obscurity and the second I was raised I threw myself back down again."

"Things are rarely that simple Miss..." He hesitated. "Perhaps now that I know your true identity you might advice me of how you wish to be addressed?"

"Fiona." My simple statement felt odd as it left my lips, considering everything that had passed within those few hours. "I haven't been Niamh for a very long time Commodore. She's just someone I once knew. I don't think I'm quite the same person any more. I've seen too much to be that honest Irish country girl. And yes, you are right. Things are rarely that simple."

"You are aware of my distrust of your uncle, which I harboured from my first meeting him. I do not believe I could be persuaded to give you over so readily without first hearing your own account. As is so clearly the case now, you might have chosen to leave of your own accord." There was a serene kind of calmness within James as he spoke that made my shoulders slump forward, made me long to stretch out on the expanse of sand before us and doze under the hot sun even though my mind was running wild with images of what we'd seen inside the caves and of how on earth James had seen through my pretence. "Would you really consider me to be that impetuous Miss?"

"It's not that I think you are... well I suppose back then I did think that you might do just that," I confirmed eventually. "Your recklessness in sailing into that hurricane all those months ago might have induced me to think so. What's more, you are an upstanding gentleman of sorts so I thought that you would consider yourself to be doing right by my uncle, and perhaps even by me. I thought that even if you considered that I might have left London willingly, you'd still come to think of me as a foolish child who had notions of adventure and consider the best thing for me would be to have me sent home. I mean, I wasn't exactly in the best position to argue against such a thing, when I'd lost all of my friends to the sea and had no real situation in life. It's not that I'd anything against you in that respect. I just didn't know if I could trust you."

He nodded his understanding. "You are right Miss, in that I do consider myself a gentleman and strive to uphold such ideals. In order to do so though, I would most certainly have taken your own tale into account. Do you think I'd have sent you back to your uncle if you'd told me the truth? The real truth I mean, one which you still have yet to voice? A young woman in need of shelter and protection would not be someone I could readily turn away from. I have been rash before, Miss O'Connell. I have thrown caution to the winds and acted without knowing the true feelings and desires of the other party. I have since come to learn that mutual agreement is a necessity where strong minded women are concerned; indeed all women the world over. You must understand that I grew up in a household that taught it's young men that they were the stronger sex, that women were to be subservient and compliant. As soon as I left home my views changed. It was visiting my first ports as a young deck-hand that taught me how women really thought. I walked down the main street of God knows what port town and saw such a different way of life to what I was used to in London. I understood how women can command respect in island port towns and aboard ships. They were strong and cunning, not a mere doll to be dressed up and wedded to secure a large dowry, connections and in some cases a promotion. I saw for myself how women are just as capable as men, perhaps even more so. I myself have known women who were intrigued and beguiled by things that should have frightened them to their core. I do not believe I would have considered you a fool Miss. Far from it in fact. In the time I've known you I think I have come to consider you one of the smartest women of my acquaintance. Perhaps you ere on the side of caution a little too much where superstition is concerned but in essence we are all a product of our upbringing. You have mentioned, I think that in Ireland children are told such queer stories that they take into adulthood with them because the stories are so often told. We shake off what we dislike and disbelieve in theory, and try to mould that part of ourselves which we cannot. I do understand that perhaps I have given you reason to distrust me. My behaviour when you first came aboard _The Surgence_ was not entirely hospitable. As I think you are aware by now though, that was as much for your own safety as that of my crew. I also believe I my have underestimated you Miss. you have shown yourself just as capable a sailor as any of my crew but there is certainly a lot more to you. Your careful treatment of my friend in his last moments showed an empathy within you that I had not really considered. Despite all of the sharpness of the sea that there is about you, I am sure that despite what you say to the contrary, that honest country girl is still a component of your make up."

I felt him beginning to slip into a deeper tone of conversation, one which I was not ready for and so I endeavoured to keep our conversation light. "I'm still curious though Commodore. What was it that gave me away in the end, apart from me being too soft on occasion as you've just disclosed?"

"You will recall our late night conversation in which I agreed rather reluctantly to succumb to the aid of Mr. Sparrow. I will say that I had suspicions that you were not entirely what you seemed Miss, but I believe that conversation was what secured my certainty. You are lucky in that Mr. Hawkins does not have as keen an eye as he claims to have. That miniature portrait he carries of you in his pocket is rather a peculiar thing. You are indeed greatly changed from it, but there are discerning features of yours which I'm surprised he misses when I consider how much time he spends staring at it. Of course your hair is a great deal lighter, an after-affect of long hours under the hot sun but your eyes are unchanging. Indeed I think our conversation that night was when all of my suspicions fell into place. I believe it is how you speak, that first caught my interest and threw me onto your scent. I also heard a conversation that you shared with Lieutenant Groves some time ago. I came to quickly understand that you were running from something. From there I believe the pieces began to fall into place. I believe I should also contend your claim that empathy is an adverse quality. Indeed I think it a blessing and a benefit as I would not perhaps have considered it to be so a while ago. Your ability to see the world in such a way will fare you better than those who see everything as an ill. You are suspicious and you are distrusting but not overly so. I recognise your thought process, and appreciate it. I trust your judgement which has proved fair until now."

Fiona frowned. "And yet you said absolutely nothing of any of this to me? You are an intelligent man Commodore and I can see in you a desire for knowledge. How did you not find it in yourself to approach me and ask the questions that I believe you will have longed to hear an answer to if you felt so strongly?"

"It was not my place Miss," he replied curtly. "Perhaps someone recently, with a good heart and a steady mind has taught me not to be so narrow minded when it comes to the feelings and vices of others. Indeed I knew simply by your words to me that night we spoke that you felt yourself in danger and that was your principal justification for leaving your uncle's care. You had entirely closeted those thoughts and I perceived in you a distinct wish to never speak them aloud. I should even hazard a guess that your pirate friends do not know who you really are.

Fiona held her breath, sure that keeping the fact that Anamaria and perhaps even Mai knew who she was secret might be more beneficial for the time being. There was no need to add to the confusion of it all. Instead she stayed silent, and James seemed content to speak again. "Aboard my ship I can assure you of your utmost safety whilst I am present. Therefore I saw no need to bring up the subject so unwanted and perhaps even distressing to you. I had no worry for your safety and no need to delve into your private emotions. I also believed you may take offence at my questioning you so. You tend to bristle at the first sign of enquiry or ridicule. I believe that may be a trait of your homeland but it is not a negative one, before you accuse me of misrepresentation. No, I thought there was no harm in letting you have your secrets, especially not after I was resigned to release you from _The Surgence_ once we reach port. We all have our secrets Miss O'Connell, and now I believe I finally begin to consider how my actions and words affect others. I now try to take into account the pain and suffering that might be caused all because I did not correctly value the importance of knowledge. I know you to be intelligent and loyal. You are also a skilled sailor, especially for a woman of your small frame. I decided that I had before me all that I really did need to know. I place no more judgement upon that which I have no right to."

"God, I never knew navy men could be so deep," I muttered as an attempt at humour. If he found me funny though, he did not smirk.

"You must now begin to consider Miss O'Connell, that if I could decipher such a secret, others soon will. You have already offered up the information that Lieutenant Groves too learned your secret, so it is not entirely impregnable. I would wager that perhaps Mr. Hawkins will be next. He has a fastidious and determined mind. Rest assured if he believes that you may be a stone to overturn, he will do so. You know my opinions of the man, but I am bound to escort him home to London unless he should chose to make his own journey another way. Think a little further to your concealment. Stay out of Mr. Hawkins's way and if you cannot do so, tell him nothing at all. I will do what I can whilst you are aboard my ship to aid you, but once you leave it, I fear that he may follow in the wake of such a secret."

His promise to help me seemed at odds with the forthright man I had come to know and grudgingly respect. To help me was perhaps to set himself against London society. I knew what kind of influence my uncle carried and cast no aspersions that I would get to live as Fiona forever. I could endeavour to maximise my time though, and disappear once we made port. The thought sprang to me then as if my own mind was chastising itself for not thinking of it sooner. I would have to go home. As much as I did not want to, that would be the last place that Mr. Hawkins or anyone would look now. I was too much of an adventuress in their eyes to even think of returning to Ireland, so they would naturally look further afield. It was clear though, that I had found myself an ally in James. He had promised to take me to a port of my choosing, even to Ireland if I so wished. I could not take up such an offer though. I would have to leave _The Surgence_ as soon as we reached the next port. I would have to find Patrick myself, and persuade him either to take me home or to shelter me. The thought of a long-term residence with Patrick O'Malley did not sit well with me, but I had little choice in the matter, especially as I did not think he would go all the way to Ireland just to take me home. No; I'd have to wait until he was intending to go that way himself.

James wandered off after a short while to see if he could catch a glimpse of his men returning in their boats. He instructed me to stay where I was and left the sword and the leather map case with me. If my knee had been stronger I'd have taken issue with such an instruction but it quickly occurred to me that he'd placed yet more trust in me in leaving me with the sword. The way the sun caught it every so often made it almost blinding to look at, as if it did not want me looking upon it so I turned my gaze upon the leather map case that lay discarded in the sand. Evidently James thought the real treasure was the sword but I suppose given that I've skill with maps, I was desperate to unfurl the paper inside and see what secrets were held there. I didn't though, because I knew James could be back at any moment and I didn't quite think I was ready to let him know that secret just yet. Even as I resolved to leave the leather case alone, it called out to me. Each time I glanced away from it out to sea it was almost as if there was this burning sensation in the corner of my eye, forcing me to turn my head back around.

Eventually I reached down and grasped the handle of the case to pull it free of the sand and held it out before me. I'd seen similar cases before, and they usually had initials of the owner engraved upon it somewhere or at least a makers mark. There was nothing to be seen though and I found myself stroking the worn leather repeatedly as I tried to fight the urge to open the case again.

"It's curious that of our two discoveries today, you are most intregued by the map case."

James was strolling back towards me and I could see no one else around. I wondered vaguely if the crew had found something on the other side of the island that had held them up. I shrugged at him mildly as I turned back to him. "I've always had a keen interest in maps and charts. I've some skill with them. That is; Mick taught me a lot. I'm very lucky to have met him really. He taught me everything I know. It's harder to adjust to the sea for women I think. I was fortunate to have a captain who respected me enough to give me ample time to learn."

James had re-taken his seat upon the rock opposite me and I dropped the map case back down into the sand. "But then there are those who in turn pick up things rather quickly," James replied as a far away look ghosted across his face. "Some women take to the sea like a duck to water; despite living an entirely different life. Perhaps you were one Miss."

He wasn't talking of me. I could tell because he was gazing out at the sea and his eyes appeared so sad to me in that moment that I rattled my brain for something to say in an attempt to comfort him. I could think of nothing. I did not know the woman he spoke of back then, so all I had was what I knew of him. "I'm sure she had fine teachers, whoever it is you speak of." He turned to glance back at me sharply, clearly unaware that I had seen through his melancholy. "She must be a rare beauty to have you pining after her even now , Commodore.

He was so shocked that I think his angry retort got lost somewhere on the way from his brain to his mouth. "I'm a woman. I see these things. It also helps when your officers drop little tidbits of information for me to piece together. Of course, Mr. Sparrow delighted in telling your tale of woe even when I told him I didn't want to hear it."

"Mr. Sparrow takes a keen interest in that which he has all but destroyed." There was real anguish there now in his eyes, maybe even more so than the day that he'd lost _The Dauntless_ and it's crew to that hurricane. How fickle men's minds are, when it takes a woman to really tear them asunder. "Perhaps Miss O'Connell you might be inclined to know that I have seen said lady since her marriage, and wished her well. I am indifferent to her now."

I snorted involuntarily. "Yeah, it seems it. We've all been hurt by people Commodore. We all struggle to figure out what to do with that anger and pain inside of us. I did for so long after Mick died. I'm still working through all of that if I'm honest. I'm not proud that I'm still struggling to see where I fit into the world now. I've got hope growing somewhere inside me though. I've got Patrick O'Malley to find, and when I do I shall be one step closer to forging a new path. I'm moving on with my life ever so slowly. Perhaps you should try doing the same. You're still trying to prove yourself to her aren't you? All of this treasure seeking with the promise of a promotion is really to impress or vex her. Have you even considered what the admiralty might actually afford you and your life? Have you stopped to think if that is what you want? You'll have to spend more time on land to be sure, from what Mick told me of admirals. There will be more paperwork and...Well I just hope you can see a future there somewhere. Otherwise it looks to be quite a sad turn of events."

"Then Miss O'Connell," he haughtily replied as he turned back towards me. "What do you propose I do?"

"I can't tell you what to do Commodore! You know your own wishes and desires. I dare say you've never told them to a single person so you are on your own. You need to find another path in life. Move on. If you do make admiral, then you'll have to marry will you not? That might be a good thing for you."

"I do not wish to marry," came his curt reply. "I have seen the evils of a marriage without love and trust. Perhaps I will never find her equal again in all the world. I could not marry another."

"What is it with you men and finding something's equal? Take your golden sword at your feet Commodore! It's not what you came to find but I'd dare say it's much more real than that blasted crown and thus worth much more. I think perhaps there's a lesson in that. You should try and hold onto what's real instead of chasing dreams. There have been times when I've thought I wanted something so badly, but in hindsight I was in love with the myth and the idea of what I could never have. Once I realised that if I got it, it wouldn't work anyway I began to see things in a different light. Of course you must take from the past as you believe it will afford you pleasure or knowledge, but to dwell there always would send you to the locker before ever a sea monster or a hurricane ever would. You simply need to try and visualise where you go from here, and start walking down that path in your mind. Try and look at some new phase of life."

He jumped up from his place upon the rock then as if he had been burned. He threw one cautious glance my way before he strode forwards to gaze out at the sea, facing away from me. "Perhaps I already am." I did not comprehend what he meant at that moment, but of course that wonderful thing called hindsight that I mentioned earlier comes into play here. He was not talking of the admiralty, or a marriage to some fancy heiress or even a life upon the sea but of me, and I clearly see that now even if he did not know so himself. his abrupt and stiff manner of so many weeks ago had returned in an instant, as if every conversation we had ever had was forgotten entirely. "Did you love O'Malley?"

His abrupt question was entirely out of place with the conversation. I thought of course that he was trying to bring the conversation back around to my grief and I couldn't imagine at the time why he would want to do that. I was silent for quite a while as I thought I'd not dignify the question with an answer. I turned slowly on the rock, so that I was facing his back and from the little of his face that I could see, I could tell he required an answer off me, that we were at an impasse.

"Of course I loved him," I replied coolly. "Not in the way you are insinuating though Commodore! Mick was my friend, the first real friend I ever had in my life! He was my only friend really! He really did teach me so much. He didn't have to take me in. He could have left me there in the port that day with no hope whatsoever. He didn't though. He did a good deed which I will ever be grateful for. He was a father and a brother to me also. I classed him as my only family. I never once thought of Mick in any other way. Even if I had, he was still too in love with his late wife to look to anyone else. I really did think Mick and I would sail the seas forever. That's the kind of hope he instilled in me. That's what family does. I know it probably seemed like I was taking Mick's death quite hard, but I don't think you understand what life is like for someone like me! Mick took everything I held dear; every chance I had at happiness I ever had. When I sailed with him I didn't need any other family or any other kind of love. I had the support and family that was Mick and his crew. I didn't need anything else in the world but that life and now I am more at risk than ever of finding myself at my uncle's feet. Mick hid me away from anyone who might have caused me to come face to face with that man again without even knowing what really happened. I might appear to be some lovesick foolish girl Commodore but I'm not. I'm a grown woman grieving for the loss of everything I ever had. I have nothing now. I don't even have employment with which to feed and clothe myself. Go home to your fancy drawing rooms and your stuffy conversations about stocks and shares Commodore! Take your great ship and your treasure off with you and slip into that world you long to be a part of. Just think, in thirty years, pray God that you live so long; I hope you look back and realise that real treasure is not swords or crowns or gold or gems. I had the greatest treasure I could ever wish for; a life of adventure. It's all gone now. My friends are all gone. At least you have someplace to go, whether it makes you happy or not! God you are pining over someone who more than likely never thinks of you! I don't mean any disrespect, but clearly your Miss Swann was never meant for you. There are so many women back in London who'll bite their own hand off to marry you! You never know, you might actually grow to like one of them!"

I was storming away from him then, just managing to stoop and pick up the map case as I went. My knee was screaming in pain and locked every time I bent it but still I walked on. I had no idea where my outburst had come from and I thought myself akin to a small child throwing a needless tantrum even as I seethed and cried. Now though I comprehend things better. We all know that grief is not something that just vanishes after a while. It can lie dormant and take us completely by surprise one day. It can be something as simple as a place someone once loved, or a poem or piece of prose. It can be music, or even just a scent. There are all kinds of triggers, and sometimes we don't even need one. Sometimes the way others think and feel things reignites our grief tenfold. Perhaps we think we are not coping right, or that we are selfish and have recovered too quickly. In essence it is just as much about ourselves as it is the person we lost. I was mad that James felt so lost when in fact the woman he loved was very much still alive and happy. Mick on the other hand was lost to Davy Jones' Locker.

I know now that grief is grief and that those feelings are not exclusive of circumstance. I understand how he felt, and why he felt it. I see James's pain the way I see my own. Despite what I had said to him on the beach that day, he was moving on himself. I just couldn't see it because I was the one bringing about that change. We never recognise those things which should make ourselves proud and hopeful. We put ourselves down, place blame on ourselves, give up on ourselves. We never see our own hearts the way other people see them. I think my words although harsh were a good lesson for James that day. He could comprehend that I thought he was worth more than a navy title if he wanted to be and that he could be accepted as a good man with a decent conscience.

* * *

 _ **So there we have it, James has known who Fiona is for quite a while and seems to want to help her, but will she be willing to accept that help?**_

 _ **In the next chapter, there's another storm to deal with and James and Fiona might just be forced to get a little closer physically! ;)**_


	21. Chapter Twenty one - Think Like Jack

_**As ever, thanks to the guest and Icar372 for the reviews! I'm glad that James seemed in character because that was what I was most worried about!**_

 _ **In this chapter, Fiona shows what she's made of and she and James might just get a little closer!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty one - Think Like Jack**_

Was it rather foolish of us all to think we'd overcome the worst of the storms? To be sure, James had locked Jack Sparrow in the brig again with no intention of releasing him until we reached port. There was no contingency plan for our return journey, but I suppose none of us were really considering it. It crossed my mind as I stumbled into the rowing boat and took a seat that I thought would be furthest from James that Jack Sparrow had been wrong. We'd returned from the cave unharmed. Hadn't he said the man he knew had never been the same after he'd witnessed something here? James and I were unchanged. Granted, we were both a little riled and I was certainly both depressed and angry but hadn't I been so before I'd stepped foot on that island?

I'd expected some kind of furore when the other men in the boat caught sight of the sword in James's hands but remarkably he'd managed to somehow conceal it beneath his coat. I could readily understand why he had done so, because he'd intimated to me many times by then that he did not trust his crew. I did think that maybe it was the wrong move to hide such a thing. Surely his crew would only gain more respect for him if he told them he had found some form of treasure, and they would appreciate being kept in the loop. But what do I know about how things work amongst a naval crew? What I did know was that the crew were becoming restless because they had been led to believe that James had skills other captains did not. So far he had not lived up to the precedent my uncle had set in his name. The men were becoming anxious to return home because they feared they might spend many years at sea with James. They were doubting his ability in every way. Part of me understood that, but there was also a part of me that reasoned that there was no arguing with James's determination. He was bound for some kind of luck and fame for he was fighting so hard for it.

The sword was hastily transported below deck once we found ourselves back aboard _The Surgence_ and as James appeared to have forgotten all about the map case we had found I decided to keep it with me so I could take a first look at it's contents. If I found nothing of interest I'd hand it over to James eventually. I knew I'd not have a chance to unfurl the maps that night as we could see a storm raging further out at sea. The main deck was a hive of activity as the crew prepared to cast off and I wondered if I could manage to sneak off down to the brig to tell the pirates all that I had seen that day. Lieutenant Thompson had offered me something to do though, and I quickly dropped the map case beneath some bench seating where I hoped it would stay out of sight. I'd spent the last storm in my cabin and I wasn't about to have the crew thinking I could not muck in with the best of them. I couldn't bare to have them blackening Mick's name in saying that I knew nothing of sailing.

I was positioned on the main deck and was glad of it, for I was not of a want to be near James at the helm. "Keep an eye on that jib boom and the jib sails Miss," Lieutenant Thompson called to me over the increasing volume of wind and rain. "The crew tend to forgo the smaller sails for the main sails but if we want to keep our heading and navigate the outskirts of this storm we'll need the jib in place. If there's any damage fetch someone to fix it and tell them it's a direct order from me or if it pleases you Miss, you are perhaps well equipped in that you are probably smallest and quickest here to do the best job of repair. Do not think I did not see you scaling that mast at lightening speed on the first day we met, Miss O'Connell. Only attempt it though if you can fetch a crew member to keep watch for you!"

With that he was gone and I was left helping tie down the ropes of the fore sails whilst keeping a weather eye towards the bow. It did not go unnoticed that I had been sort of lumped in with the rest of the crew in being given a job that befitted the skills I had previously shown. Despite knowing I could carry out any job on deck well enough, I did feel a sense of pride that he'd not tried to force me blow deck or tie me down to some menial task. He thought me capable. Perhaps in another life or in a different world I would have appreciated the easy manners of Lieutenant Thompson a lot more. He was easy going and decidedly ready to hand out praise where it was due. He'd that sense of adventure about him too that I felt running though my own veins. Maybe I would have looked to him if it had not been for the enigma that is James Norrington.

It was as if the sea knew we now held precious cargo in the form of the sword. I copied the actions of some of the crew after a while and tied a rope around my waist to try and keep myself in place as we were thrown all over the deck. Everyone was drenched and the officers looked the worst; with some wigs matted to their heads and some wigs lost entirely to the wind and the rain. Each time I turned sharply my wet hair would slap against the side of my face and obscure my view for a second or two. My hands began to slip on the sodden ropes instead of clutching them tightly, and my shoes were of no use at all because there was no grip upon the soles. I was no different to anyone else though. Even the crew in their thick strong boots couldn't rightly keep their footing that well. The swells of water landing on deck were sending us sliding all over, and the only thing stopping us from veering over the railings was the lengths of rope we were using to tie ourselves down.

Afterwards I wondered what it must have felt like to be stuck in the brig without any idea what was going on above deck. It must have been frightening, or in Jack Sparrow's case I'm sure he just felt that he was missing out. At the time though I was too preoccupied for such thoughts. I heard the shouting of orders from somewhere, but with the wind whipping my hair around my face and the crack of the sails above me I couldn't make out any significant words. I just carried on with what I was doing for I knew if I let go of the rope I was holding the sail might fly loose. The crew were running this way and that over the deck as best they could and I turned to watch them sliding towards their eventual destinations. I felt the rope loosening around my waist but I dared not let go to try and tighten it for I could feel the tension in the rope I held and knew that the mast was threatening to topple. I turned around to glance behind me to see if there was anyone I could snare to help secure the mast but everyone was occupied already. I looked towards the quarter deck where I knew there would be some officers and I could just make out James at the helm. Through the rain I could not tell where his gaze fell, but I had the most unnerving feeling then that he was staring right at me. Of course there would be no way for him to tell one person from another so far away but even as I turned back to try and observe the jib sails I felt as if his eyes were upon the back of my neck.

I ran forward suddenly and abandoned my post as I watched the spirit sail which should hang below the jib boom come loose. I hoped the midshipmen could keep the mast upright without me and I was already too late for as I reached the bow the sail broke free of it's restraints and was caught up in a wave. There were shouts all around me then, and I turned back to witness some of the crew dragging one man back onto his feet again. It appeared he'd almost gone over the side and a few seconds later an officer arrived and declared orders that everyone was to go below. I shook my head in disbelief at the orders, sure that James would be angry to hear his officer give such instructions but the men seemed to be following suit. I moved further back up the deck to find out what was going on when Lieutenant Thompson caught my arm. He was much more dishevelled than I'd last seen him, with his blonde hair plastered to one side of his face and his wig nowhere to be seen.

"Everyone below decks, Commodore's orders!" he yelled at me and moved on.

That James had ordered everyone below decks in the midst of a storm such as the one we were in made no sense to me at all, but when I turned and gazed up at him standing at the helm I realised just what was going on. His face was set in anguish, and I was close enough to see the pain crossing his eyes. He had lost a crew in a storm such as this, and he was struggling with the thought of such a thing happening again. Clearly he did not want to lead this crew to their deaths but I failed to see how we stood any chance of gaining the upper hand in such a storm if the ship was not manned. Everyone else was now headed below deck and I ducked away from Lieutenant Holmes as he tried to usher me down into the staircase. I dived under the bench I'd hidden the map case beneath and grabbed it. Back on my feet again I tried my hardest not to slip as I was buffeted by the wind. I reached the staircase again and kept moving, climbing the steps that brought me to the quarterdeck. There were still officers and midshipmen there tying off the sails.

"Commodore, are you not moving yourself?" I yelled. For a few seconds I thought he had not heard me over the roar of the wind and rain but he turned to me very slowly. "It can't be one rule for you and another for everyone else! You're captain. If you stay up on deck then your officers will stay too!"

I was right in what I said, for although the crew had little loyalty to James he was still sending them below decks to try and save them. His officers though were taking up positions around him in defiance of his orders. Whatever his reply was, I did not hear it for as he began to speak a gust of wind took my feet from under me and I slammed into the deck below me. The map case rolled from my hands off across the deck and there was no one to catch it. Everyone around me except James had been floored too but they were next to the railings and had something to hold on to. I felt myself sliding along the sodden deck and I had two choices of direction. I could either aim for the railings which were closer to me or head for the map case. You will know by know that I feel some form of affinity with maps and charts. I've always had this notion to try and protect and preserve them if I can because I have such a skill with them. I imagine you can guess my choice. James says he yelled at me from where he still clung to the helm to keep himself upright, but I didn't hear him. I slid on, getting the chance to rise to my feet again and take the last few steps at a run.

Just as I reached the map case the ship lurched suddenly, and not even James could remain on his feet. I slammed into the deck again and just managed to grab the map case. James had been thrown back onto the deck but he was clinging to the wooden base below the ship's wheel. I could feel myself sliding again and even as I reached out to try and snare the railings with my arm I missed them. Just as I thought I was going to either hurtle into a bulky object and knock myself out or fall overboard something gripped my ankle tightly. I recognised the feeling of the grip of a hand and glanced down. James yanked me towards him by my ankle and I did not even notice that as my skirt rode up to just above my knees with the motion, he glimpsed for a second my injured knee.

"Have you got a death wish?" he snarled at me as he let go of my ankle and grabbed my waist to hold me in place. "Hold on!"

I could tell there was no arguing with him by his expression and so I did as I was told. I grabbed onto the ship's wheel with my free arm and with the map case resting in the crook of my elbow of the other arm I clutched onto the arm that he held around me. The one and only time I'd been that close to him had been back in the cave when he'd pulled me from the water. Yet again, despite all of the chaos around us his eyes were still drawn to the pendant that rested near my sternum. I wanted to shake him then for letting something so trivial distract him from the predicament we were all in. There was no chance of moving anywhere with the ship lurching from side to side so harshly and so we all stayed where we were, clinging to whatever we could to stay aboard.

You wouldn't imagine I'd be able to smell much over the wind and rain would you? Let me tell you, I could smell him. held so tightly against him I could smell the paste he had used to shave that morning, and the soap he used to wash. There was something else there too, his own unique scent that was somehow full of a spice and warmth that I recognised from home even though by the look of him he was not a man to err towards any spice of a kind. It was disconcerting, and I wondered if that was how he felt when he gazed at my pendant. It seemed any anger I had felt towards him, any irritation seemed to slip away from me in that moment and I recalled that twice in one day he might have saved my life.

There was no choice for us all really but to stay where we were and hope the wind would abate itself. The rain was hammering down so heavily upon us that it was enough to stop us getting to our feet again. For a long while no one moved. My arms grew tired but I never let them slacken because it was not just myself I had to consider. Deep down I knew that James was not one for foolish notions, but on the surface I had the fancy that if I lost my grip James might follow me in some daft rescue attempt. That was what kept me pushing through the pain of exhaustion as the ship was tossed to and fro in the wind. I would not let myself dwell upon the fact that his arm was still latched tightly around my waist and that no man had ever held me that closely for that length of time before. I think you'll know there was a part of my mind that would have thought of us lying together in such a position in a not so precarious scenario. I might have imagined it a peaceful and comforting embrace if I had allowed such thoughts. Most of all, I was worried that my expression might change and that James might see such a thing, so I let no such thoughts enter my head until much later.

For anyone who had thought him somewhat of a pushover, or a typical pretender who had all that intelligence and skill at navigating the seas but no real strength or nerve when it came down to dire situations; I can tell you that you're wrong. Perhaps his previous experiences would leave you to believe that, but I can't begin to explain just how safe and secure I felt with his arm wrapped around me. I had already decided that I trusted him, but there was something there in the air between us then that had me believing he'd go to the ends of the earth for me. I didn't rightly know back then if it was because he was the kind of person who would do anything for those he trusted; for those he called friends or if he was beginning to feel the same things that I was. Now in hindsight I can confirm that both are the case. He always wants to please, and he feels indebted to those he calls his friends. That's the reason he'd promised his Miss Swann he'd help her find Mr. Turner. It's not something I'd call a failing at all because it isn't. It's a mark of how good a person he is. Some people might easily take advantage of such a trait and that's where the problems arise. I knew all of that back then, but I didn't know how he felt about me. Heavens, I didn't even know how I felt about him then.

I didn't want to let myself consider that I might have a regard for him that was increasing by the day. I couldn't place what my feelings were towards him then. Of course I trusted him, and respected him but in terms of my own feelings I don't believe I could decipher whether I saw him simply as someone I might one day class as a friend or as something far more. That was why I dreaded thinking of it all. I knew it would be only too easy to see James in the best light, to really esteem him and think so very highly of him that I saw him as something much more than a friend. I'd never had such feelings before in my life, so I did not know how I should act if I let them consume me. I was sure that he would be able to read my thoughts somehow. I was also sure he would never see me in the way that I could potentially see him.

Suddenly the air was calm, even though the rain still pelted down. The ship lurched one last time and then steadied itself and we all took hesitant breaths. For a few moments afterwards we all waited, as if we suspected the worst was yet to come. James did not move his arm. I could feel the weight of it more prominently in the moments when there was no need of his hold. There was a need suddenly for speech, for without it I felt that we would both feel somewhat flustered.

"What do we do now?" was all I could think to ask.

He had lifted his head and glanced around the quarter deck to observe his officers still clinging to the railings all around them. "The wind could still catch the sails at any moment," he replied. "The previous orders stand. Everyone below decks if they can make it."

He stood then, pulling me with him and the officers followed. Through the rain we could hear the wind howling nearby and see it churning the waters off the port side. I was shaking my head, sure that his orders were not the ones we needed.

"Can't we try and sail out of this weather? Wouldn't that be a better course of action?"

It was James's turn to shake his head. "To do so I fear we might need the madness of Mr. Sparrow."

It was like a cog turned in my mind. "Then we need to think like him," I supplied immediately. "We need to think like Jack. We need to do the unthinkable, the very opposite of what we would normally do in such a situation!"

"And that is?" James did not appear convinced at all by my reasoning, judging by his raised brow.

I moved away from him then, walking down the steps towards the main deck. "We loose the sails!" I cried over my shoulder. "We cut all of them down! That way there's nothing for the wind to catch! There's less chance of being dragged back into the storm."

"That's the worst idea I've ever heard," I heard Gillette mutter as he followed behind me.

I turned as I reached the main deck and looked back at them all. Gillette was scowling, and I think James must have been just seconds before, but I turned in time to see the realisation cross his face.

"Do it!" was all that he said. His eyes met mine for a second and he gave me one stiff nod of approval that spoke of his understanding of my thought process.

I tore off towards the bow, dropping the map case and pulling Mick's knife from my belt as I went. I cut the ropes of the jib sails, making sure to get a grip of the sails before the wind could catch them and spirit them away. I threw them over my shoulder and moved on to try and help cut the fore sails down. The officers were scaling the masts as quickly as they could and I followed suit, but the top sails were all lost to the wind. Climbing back down the mast was a harder feat with sails thrown over both my shoulders, but I could already sense a lack of the force that had been buffering the ship only moments before. The ship began to drift as we all dumped the sails in a crate and watched through the rain as for a few seconds it seemed as if we might sail into the wind again.

I held my breath, knowing full well that if the wind caught the ship again it might well be my fault. Just as I felt a grimace begin to grow upon my face though, a wave crashed against the ship and knocked it off its course. Without any sails for the wind to catch _The Surgence_ continued to turn, it's newfound direction a clear one. Within moments we were putting a steady distance between ourselves and the storm and the rain began to lighten ever so much. If it had been _The Grace_ I'd been aboard, the crew might have cheered but aboard _The Surgence_ there was still a sense of trepidation in the air. There was silence as we coasted for several minutes before I finally considered us out of danger. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, as did everyone around me.

"Lets get those sails rigged again!" Gillette called from behind me and we all hastened to delve into the crate to find the sails we had removed. I took the jib sails again, knowing it made sense for the smallest person to climb out on to the jib boom. I cut the rope I needed and headed off, with Lieutenant Thompson appearing at my side a few seconds later offering to help. He held the sails whilst I climbed onto the jib boom and shuffled myself along it. The rope and my knife were still slippery with the rain so it took more than a few frustrating tries before I had finally rigged the sails again. by the time I had finished most of the other sails were back in place and James had sent for the crew below decks to hunt out the spare sails to replace the top ones we'd lost.

The crew returned to work reasonably quickly once they realised that we were free of the storm but no one had any idea where we were. A midshipman had fetched James's spyglass for him, which he stood with on the quarterdeck as he tried to catch a glimpse of any recognisable features on the horizon. At long last he mentioned glimpsing land on our port side and it was quickly concluded to be the southern tip Madagascar. I wasn't so sure though. In my mind I could picture the very map I'd seen in my dreams and judging by just how much we might have travelled whilst in the midst of that storm, I thought we were much further west of Madagascar. When I mentioned so, no one seemed to heed my words. It was only James who eventually agreed that it must indeed be Amsterdam Island which was deserted.

I think there must have been within James some strong desire to maroon Sparrow and his crew upon that island just out of spite, but the honourable part of his mind would not have it. He announced that he would plot a course for Rio de Janeiro, from where the pirates might receive a fair trial. I picked up the map case from where I'd dropped it and followed James who had disappeared below deck. I had the strangest notion then of not secretly unfurling the maps alone. After all, it was James who was in command of the ship and who knew when I would ever be able to boast of such a thing. If I was lucky enough to find a crew to take me on I'd have to work from the bottom up again. It had also occurred to me that there might be some kind of clue as to who the sword had once belonged to or where it had come from upon the maps. I reached the doorway and descended into the gloom of the dark corridor that led to James's cabin, but it appeared he had realised I was following him. He had stopped just beyond the door and appeared to be catching his breath.

I offered the map case to him as a gesture to let him know he had forgotten all about it, but he paid very little attention to the object. His eyes had caught mine and despite my desperation to look away I was unable to. In the gloom of the corridor the brightness of his eyes was heightened, so much so that it was almost as if there was a glare that smarted my own eyes. We were both breathing heavily, trying to catch our breath in the stuffy corridor that held little air at all, and water was dripping from my hair onto my already soaked shirt. I didn't know it at the time but James could make out the outline of my breasts through my shirt once I pulled my hair behind my shoulders. Of course, ever the gentleman he never made it apparent that he glanced in that direction at all. I couldn't tear my eyes from his as the tension between us began to build and I longed for something to say to fill the silence, but I could think of nothing at all.

Unbelievably, he took an infinitesimal step closer to me which seemed a much greater leap than it was considering the narrow corridor we were in. I clutched the map case to me then as a sort of barrier between us, sure that any intimacy between us would be regretted immediately afterwards.

"I see what's going on here now!"

We both jumped apart as much as the corridor would allow when we heard the voice. Mr. Hawkins was emerging from the gloom at the end of the corridor and it was clear he had been there the whole time.

"Mr. Hawkins-" James began but he was cut off.

"Little cosy cave visits, rendezvouses in the dark empty corridor. What will be next Miss O'Connell; secret little map readings in the Commodore's cabin? You are behaving like the Irish hussy I hoped you would not be-"

"Mr. Hawkins!" James cried. Even I jumped as his tone cut through the tense atmosphere. He had moved swiftly so that I was behind him and he was blocking Mr. Hawkins's way. "You are a guest aboard this ship, as is Miss O'Connell. I do not tolerate rudeness to anyone aboard, including guests. Miss O'Connell may just have saved all of our lives during that storm, so you should be thanking her; not besmirching her name. If you are unhappy with your current place aboard my ship you are of course welcome to seek alternative transport back to England when we reach the nearest port. Until then I ask you to remain aware of the language you use and how incumbent it is that you are polite and gracious at all times. I will have no qualms in informing our benefactor of your behaviour if you do not desist with these ramblings. You will also endeavour to remain as far out of the way of Miss O'Connell as you can."

James threw out his hand then to take the map case from me and I passed it to him hastily and considered myself dismissed by the gesture. "Miss O'Connell, perhaps you might return to your cabin to fetch some warm clothing for yourself." James had not glanced at me once as he spoke, but still glared at Mr. Hawkins. I did not need telling twice. I scurried away from him and back out onto deck where it was still raining lightly. As I descended the staircase from the main deck into the bowels of the ship, I could not help the way my heart beat erratically or my face flushed as I thought of how James had come rather close to kissing me.

* * *

 _ **So James and Fiona have taken another step closer, but can they keep moving in the right direction?**_

 _ **In the next chapter, we meet another player in the game and Fiona gets a little riled.**_


	22. Chapter 22 - A Lass with Flames for Hair

_**Thanks for the reviews as ever! Guest and Icar372 both getting the sneaky vibes from Mr. Hawkins! I like how you think!**_

 _ **In this chapter, we meet another player in the game, and Fiona gets a little worked up!**_

* * *

 ** _Chapter Twenty Two - A Lass with Flames for Hair_**

It was the feeling of the ship being rammed on either side that woke me. I'd spent the last week avoiding James after the incident in the corridor and was spending more of my time in the brig again. Of course my first concern had been to tell the inhabitants of all that I had seen in the caves and about the sword we had found. I had also related the information that Anamaria and Mai were to be released when we reached port. I knew that something had passed between them all when I wasn't there because the remarkable silence that descended when I entered the brig spoke volumes. I wondered vaguely whether Mr. Hawkins had ventured below again to tell the pirates of what he had seen that night between myself and James. If he had, then they would probably think that I had betrayed them.

Realistically they still were my only friends. I was sure that as soon as I left the ship, James would never think upon me again. Hadn't I bartered to have only Mai and Anamaria released though? I had begun to think that perhaps I could have done more for them but I was also wondering why on earth they hadn't escaped of their own accord yet. I knew Jack Sparrow had a mind for such things and yet here they all still sat as if waiting for something untoward to happen. Or perhaps they were waiting until they reached land to escape. In my mind that seemed the more plausible option but Jack Sparrow didn't think like everyone else.

I'd reached the upper deck before I bumped into an officer. Lieutenant Norris seemed in a great hurry, his hat askew and his cheeks flushed as he almost ran into me on the staircase.

"What's going on?" I demanded of him as he muttered an apology and made to hasten away from me.

"A likely dispute with some pirates!" he called over his shoulder. "Might be best if you stayed below decks Miss."

He might have thought I should stay below, but he made no attempt to stop me as he hurried on down towards the middle deck. I carried on, reaching the main deck in time to witness a ship ram us again on the port side. I could see only midshipmen on the main deck and no officers and wondered where Lieutenant Norris had got his orders from. I headed for the doorway that would lead me in the direction of James's cabin in the hopes of finding someone to speak to. I descended into the gloom and was accosted immediately by Lieutenant Gillette who was laden with implements. When he spotted me he moved swiftly, handing over James's telescope and pistol before he had even started speaking.

"Take these to Commodore Norrington if you please Miss, you'll find him on the quarter deck."

Yet again any answer I might have given was lost as Gillette tore off out onto deck still laden with other implements. I did as I'd been asked and made my way to the quarter deck, sure that I'd glanced that way before and not seen anyone there. I'd been wrong for James was at the helm with Lieutenant Thompson nearby, observing as one of the ships began it's retreat. I didn't quite understand why that was happening at that point, but I clambered up the steps and held out James's pistol for him to take.

Immediately I saw a flash of anger in his eyes when he appraised me before it faded to some other form of emotion that I could not place. He reached out for the pistol and telescope and I thought he was going to snatch them from me but instead he took them with little force and tucked the telescope into a pocket. "Miss O'Connell, I want you below decks, now."

"Give me something to do," I pleaded as he turned away from me. "I can help."

The anger was back in his eyes again but I was not sure whether he wished to direct it at me or not. He grabbed my wrist then firmly, as if he thought his touch might convey the seriousness of his intent. "Miss now is not the time to question my orders. I have a particular reason for wanting you below decks at present. Please oblige me this once and return to your assigned cabin. I'll have someone fetch you when all is right."

I had no idea why he should want me shut away again. I thought for a split second that it might be because he did not trust me as much as he claimed to and wanted to parlay with the captain of the ship still ramming our side without me present. That thought vanished from my mind as quickly as his hand left my wrist and returned to it's placement upon the ship's wheel. I could not dismiss his expression and his plea. There was something heartfelt there hidden beneath the urgency but I thought I'd shown him my worth in such situations. I'd not realised the seriousness of the situation though.

The reality was that it was too late for me to venture elsewhere because as James turned away from me again, we both noticed that the one remaining ship had come alongside our starboard side, and there was a captain at it's helm. As soon as I saw the hat I recognised the man. The Viscount Townshend was a recent favourite of the king of England, and was a commissioned privateer who commanded a fleet of his own ships. I'd not ever met him personally, but I knew him by reputation alone. He was a scoundrel and a danger to all womenfolk, it was said. Mick took pains to avoid such an untrustworthy character who was only enticed by that which could benefit himself. I'd been told not long after I began sailing with Mick of the hat that the Viscount wore and it served as a warning to try to avoid the man if I could. I'd never been entirely sure why it was such a danger for me to be near him because I did not consider myself a point of interest to a man like that. I was too skinny, too pale, too red-headed to be of any interest to an Englishman.

"Commodore Norrington, you must forgive me for I did not recognise you!" The clipped and precise tones were at odds with how the man had always fared in my imagination. It was a swift reminder to me that station or rank in society was no measurement of a man's integrity. "I was not aware that you were no longer captaining _The Dauntless_! You must forgive my ignorance as we have been out of reach of the latest intrigues from London!"

In my mind I immediately had cause to wonder what would take such a character so far out at sea that he'd not hear of the sinking of _The Dauntless_ so many months ago. The Viscount was notorious upon the seas for short changing people and reneging on deals. He was also well known for returning to England to present treasures and finds to his King whilst keeping the most valuable treasures for himself. The king would not listen to reason though where the Viscount was concerned. He thought him an amusing marvel that must be kept attached to the palace purse strings at all costs.

"Indeed my Lord Townshend," James replied swiftly and I was surprised to hear his tone carefully void of any apprehension for I could feel the tension radiating off his shoulders as I stood behind him. "I now captain _The Surgence_ under commission of Sir Malcolm Sidney."

"Sidney's in on the old treasure trade now is he?" the viscount cried. "I never did think him to be such a risk taker! Although I suppose in times of need we are all considerate of the risks, are we not Commodore?"

I was wondering where the conversation was going. It was all pleasantness whereas a few moments before the Viscount had been ramming his ships into our sides. I did not believe that he was unaware who captained _The Surgence_ any more than it appeared James believed it. Clearly the Viscount had some ulterior motive but I did not think it very likely that I'd ever be privy to it. It would be a miracle if he'd even let James in on his secrets.

"You speak of times of need as if they are common place my lord, but you appear to have fared considerably well in the last few years," James surmised. "You are now an entitled privateer, renowned for enriching the King's coffers. Have you no desire to leave the seas behind and return to court?"

The Viscount chuckled mildly. "You and Sir Sidney will both be aware of the fickleness of court Commodore. I prefer to hedge my bets upon a life at sea where I am just beyond the reach of those who might tire of me."

"Not if we have a say in such matters..." I heard Gillette mutter very quietly from nearby.

"You see my fleet before you," The Viscount continued, having not heard Gillette's remark. He was gesturing behind him to five ships that I was able to discern upon the horizon but I was willing to bet there were more I could not see. "I have all of my men to think of. They are skilled at what they do, and I'd rather have such men working for me than against me."

The Viscount turned then to observe his own fleet and James wasted no time. "Below decks with you Miss O'Connell. Now!" There was a command and a force in his tone like I'd never heard before and it did not even occur to me to argue with him. I turned away from him towards the steps then and moved quickly, sure that James intended me to be out of sight before the Viscount turned back towards _The Surgence_. I was not quick enough. I've often wondered if I would be far less noticeable if it were not for my shock of red hair that is so contrasting against the dark wood of the ship and the blue of the sea and sky. If my hair were a dull brown for example, perhaps I would not have caught the Viscount's eye at all. Even if I had not, I suspect James would still have been unfortunately situated to continue the unwanted conversation for some time.

"You must dine with me Commodore, and ask your lady friend to join us!"

I stopped just as my foot touched the top step. I did not know whether to carry on and scurry down below decks or to turn back. I imagined I could hear James willing me not to turn around in his mind, but I had very little choice in the matter. In reality, the Viscount was a peer of the realm and James would not be able to refuse him. I turned ever so slowly, catching James's eye as he glanced back at me.

"I am afraid that would not be feasible," James countered warily. "The lady's aid is required aboard currently. I do not think she could be spared."

James had not openly accepted his own invitation to dine with the Viscount and I think I noticed that mistake before he did. I moved back towards him then to try and find a way to warn him, but I could see that the Viscount had also noticed the slight.

"You mean to refuse me then Commodore? I did not think you so discourteous as to refuse a man like myself. Are we both not allies after a fashion? Come, there are matters I wish to discuss with you and I am in no doubt that you will have news from England that I am not privy to."

I didn't see where I rightly fitted into all of that myself, but I was aware of the Viscount's gaze flitting towards me every so often. It was unnerving because I couldn't quite understand why he'd show any interest in me but there was a part of me that was intrigued to find out why. I watched James from where I stood at his side and could not quite work out what he was thinking. He seemed absolutely torn between honouring the invitation of a man of a higher station than him and of keeping his morals and integrity intact. I thought he was worrying about what people might say if they knew he had sat down with such a man, for it would surely harm his reputation.

"Of course I shall accept such an offer for myself, but I cannot speak for Miss O'Connell," James called. "Sadly, as I said she is required aboard _The Surgence_."

"It seems you are in a vary precarious position Commodore, for I myself have a fleet of ships at my disposal whilst you have only one, albeit a larger one. There are matters I must discuss with you and I desire the company of your friend also. I am afraid I see no way to let you pass until my demands have been met." James opened his mouth to argue but I shushed him. "I ask you both to dine with me for an hour or two, after which you may return to your own ship as it pleases you. It is only dinner Commodore. That is of course, as long as the lady herself has no objections."

I shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. "What's it to me?"

"Well then, come aboard both of you, and is that the dulcet tones of an Irish accent I hear?"

The sides of the ships were tethered together as we all watched on apprehensively and I could feel James shooting daggers into the side of my head. I no more wanted to board the Viscount's ship than James wanted me to, but I had been realistic. I knew that there was no way I'd be allowed to refuse such an invitation and James had already been rude. If we made attempts at pleasantness from now on we might just manage to suffer dinning with the Viscount before returning to _The Surgence_.

"Sir?" Gillette had appeared at James's other side to await orders.

"Keep your pistol loaded Gillette. Ready the crew. I do hope there will be no hostility but I shall not have anyone say we were not ready to retaliate should the need arise. Have the cannons loaded but quietly. Await my signal and take the best course of action that you deem fit. You will have charge of the ship in my absence. It may also be wise to keep Mr. Hawkins out of sight. I will endeavour to return Miss O'Connell to you at the earliest opportunity."

Gillette nodded stiffly and headed off to carry out the Commodore's instruction. "What's the signal?" I whispered.

James was still gripping his pistol and he held it out in front of him. "The firing if three shots in succession. In a pistol such as this, the shots will sound different to the muskets those men carry." I squirmed a little as I realised what he meant b y that. He was actively considering the fact that the Viscount's men might have cause to fire their weapons. I suppose his mind always had to take into account the worst case scenario but it didn't help to steady my nerves any. "Do you still carry that knife of yours Miss?"

I turned to look at him again then, quite surprised he had remembered that I always kept Mick's knife tucked into my belt. I nodded as I gripped the small wooden handle that was almost hidden by my belt. The blade was entirely obscured by the folds of my skirts and I'd not thought that anyone would really have noticed it, but then James was quite the observer and very little ever escaped his notice.

I was swiftly reminded of _The Grace_ as James and I were led down towards the Viscount's pirate cabin where we were to dine. The proportions were much more cramped than aboard _The Surgence_ , but I was more accustomed to the smaller spaces. James had to lean forwards quite a few times to save hitting his head on the very low ceilings that felt oppressive even to me. There was not the same welcoming and cosy feeling that had always been present aboard _The Grace._ Although space had been scarce and things had always been a little cramped we had always managed to make things work. Of course part of that had to do with the fact that we had all been so accommodating towards each other. There was no such consideration or generosity here aboard the ship that I had yet to learn the name of.

Whilst the proportions were limited, there was still room enough in the Captain's cabin for a generous dinning table that we seated ourselves at. With the Viscount at the head of the table and bread and cheese and sweetmeats presented by some of the crew, I felt my eyes narrowing. The food was fresh and even I knew that there was no way that the Viscount had not made port within the last few days. His excuse of wanting to know more news of England was going to fall upon deaf ears. I ate in silence as James and the Viscount discussed trivial matters such as how their ships fared during turbulent weather and the current headings that had been set for their respective travels. James was of course very careful to keep the latest storms we had weathered from the conversation and I was not surprised. The Viscount was not a man to discuss such things with. If he came to know of the sword that James had discovered then we'd all be dead in no time and the sword would likely be presented to the King of England, but not before the solid gold had been shortened in length considerably. The Viscount would surely decide for himself the payment he was due for finding such a treasure.

At length the Viscount began to take a keen interest in James's commission from my uncle, and I did not miss the apprehensive glance James threw my way as the cooked meats were placed before us. He was worried, and I was too. I felt as uncomfortable as I had often felt in my uncle's presence because I knew the conversation was eventually going to turn towards me and with each tankard of wine that the Viscount consumed, that conversation came ever closer.

"So you have yet to find any treasure to return to Sir Sidney with;" the Viscount surmised, "Excepting perhaps Miss O'Connell here who graces us with her presence?" I felt my face heating as attentions turned to me and my mouth was suddenly too dry to speak. "I do wonder Commodore at how this young woman came to be sailing with you. I'm sure it is a curious tale."

"Not as curious as you might hope," James supplied thinly. "My Lord I'm afraid the story is a rather common one. It came to light that Miss O'Connell's travel arrangements were no longer prudent. Her travel companions were not of the same inclination in terms of destination so it seemed only right that she make the rest of her journey with us as we are hoping to return to England after a stop or two."

"That's a rather thoughtful offer of you to make Commodore, considering that you are under the command of the East India Company and the Royal Navy. I hope you would not face repercussions for such an offer."

"My Lord you are mistaken, I have no dealings with the East India Company at present, and as for repercussions I do not think there shall be any. I was brought up a gentleman Sir, and as such I felt myself obliged to offer Miss O'Connell a safer and more comfortable voyage home. She is a skilled sailor and has proved herself an asset these last few months."

I think James had tried to end the conversation there, but the Viscount had finally turned his attention to me. "Safer? Good God Miss; you weren't sailing with pirates were you? A young lady such as yourself would not fare well I think aboard such a ship. If so, then the Commodore was right to offer his services. He is a gentleman indeed."

His eyes were appraising every bit of me where I sat and it took everything I had not to squirm in my chair. "Indeed I am indebted to him," I replied as I recalled that perhaps it was best to forgo my usual nature of saying what I really thought. I considered that in my position it was best if I said as little as possible to disturb the peace. James too seemed pleased by my answer.

"There is no debt Miss, for as I said you have been of aid aboard my ship. You have a keen eye with a needle and our sails have never been better repaired. I consider it my duty to ensure you are returned home safely."

The Viscount was watching our conversation with apt attention and it seemed that my presence aboard _The Surgence_ was still something of interest to him. "But you are accustomed to sailing Miss; I think the Commodore said? Are you then the Miss O'Connell that was often said to sail with Captain Mick O'Malley? I never had cause for dealings with the man at all in recent years but I did hear word of a woman sailing with him. I wonder Commodore that this young woman is entirely the right sort of passenger for you to be conveying; what with her not actually being of noble birth. If it were a young woman of society sat before me then it would be a different matter altogether, but are you now picking up any waifs and strays that you come across? It seems a rather rash action when you cannot have had much prior knowledge that the person you were admitting aboard your ship was entirely trustworthy-"

"Is that because I'm a woman or because I'm Irish?" My temper was sparked by the age old discrimination that I faced in my life even at a young age. It was the same attitude I'd been greeted with the world over, especially when I came into contact with rich and powerful Englishmen with the only exception being James and his officers. Even my uncle who was himself undeniably Irish even though he tried to hide it, had been so disgusted by his own heritage that he mocked it at my expense. James shot me a warning glare and the cabin boy who was clearing the platters of food from the table seemed anxious to be gone once he heard me speak. He only got as far as the door though before he had to stand aside to let some of the Viscount's crew enter the cabin.

"Ah...you must forgive my crew." The viscount gestured for the men to take places around the table and I tried to hide how much more uncomfortable that made me. I wondered vaguely if the stories that Anamaria had once told me about the Viscount's crew were true? "We usually have an evening drink of a night whilst we discuss any important matters. Take a seat, take a seat."

They were all looking at me, and I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I didn't show it though, because the tense atmosphere I had created with my outburst of a few seconds ago would not hold if I did. After all, I did not consider that we would stay much longer now that we had dined. I thought James might make some excuse to take us back to _The Surgence_. Instead I turned my gaze back towards the Viscount and stared him down as if still anticipating an answer to my question. I took in his beady black eyes and slightly wild grey hair that had been tamed with a ribbon at the nape of his neck. There was danger there, and not the same kind of danger that I'd found enticing in Patrick O'Malley. This was real danger, as if the Viscount would cut you up and feed you to his dogs without even looking at you properly. My nerves jangled again as the beady black eyes stared back at me as if in a challenge. I didn't want to hold his gaze but I knew I had to let him know I was not the type of woman to be walked over.

"I'll think you'll find Miss," the Viscount finally acquiesced to answer my question. "That I have a few Irish crew members. Can't understand a damn word they say and they drink ten times as much as anyone else aboard but the're a fiery bunch! I expect the Commodore is well used to such attitudes having sailed with yourself for a time now, for I think I see a feisty little maiden behind those eyes!"

His reply and his accompanying grin repulsed me and I finally shifted my gaze to see what James made of such a statement as I muttered, "So it's because I'm a woman then." James was not in his chair though. I glanced around the table, finally catching sight of him much closer to myself than I expected. I watched as he cut expertly through the aimless crew members who were all scrambling for chairs around the table and placed himself in the way of the man who had been about to take the chair next to me. The man seemed to want to argue the point but a swift jerk of the Viscount's head had him shuffling away. James sank down into the chair next to me as the men all around us called their drink orders to the cabin boy and the Viscount tried to rein in their chaos.

James took the first opportunity of us not being directly observed to gently touch my arm which rested on the armrest of the chair. The lightest touch of his fingers along the underside of my arm sent a strange sort of shiver down my spine but I did not feel the need to shirk away from his touch. "If I touch your arm again in such a way Miss, take that as my signal for you to leave. Do not go far. Go up on deck to take some air. I do not think they shall let you leave the ship without me, so stay upon the main deck and I will follow you there directly."

I didn't feel I needed to prove my understanding. His tone of voice led me to believe there was to be no arguing his plan. "I thought three shots fired from your pistol was the signal," I whispered backs I leaned in a little closer to him. "And I thought he said we were just dining with him? I didn't realise we'd be drinking the night away too!"

"Perhaps Miss O'Connell you might understand me if I said I anticipate more than one kind of disturbance this evening. One of which affects us all, and one which will affect only yourself; being the only woman present." James paused then and I thought he had finished speaking but he grimaced and continued. "Indeed when we are offered in invitation to dine Miss O'Connell, in London society that usually entails evening drinks that can carry on well after the supper remnants have been cleared from the table."

I wanted to roll my eyes at him as if to say _'how droll'_ , but it was not the time or place to playfully mock the society within which he'd been brought up. I had some inkling he'd have found humour in such a response because I was coming to see that he was not so much a product of his upbringing as I'd thought. There was some other strand to him that I was only lately beginning to uncover and it was the one I was finding I liked most of all. He was learning not to make the swift judgements he so often did. Perhaps I was teaching him that the world was not as black and white as he had been brought up believing. There were many different aspects to both good and bad people that could not be judged so harshly.

"I must admit I'm still curious Commodore." The Viscount's attentions had returned towards us as his men finally began to settle down around the table. "How on earth did you come across Miss O'Connell and think it was right for you to escort her home?"

I had the urge to roll my eyes again; which I resisted, again. The Viscount himself must surely have known that he was flogging a dead horse. "Indeed my Lord you make it sound as if I've gone out of my way to ensure that Miss O'Connell returns safely home. I mean to return to England myself and will more than likely make port in Ireland before I do so. If I were not journeying such a way so soon I would have of course directed Miss O'Connell to a more suitable passenger ship. As of yet we have not come across one; which makes no matter as I plan to make such a voyage myself as it is. It would seem rather foolish to remove the lady to yet another ship and upset her comforts when I can convey her home in just the same fashion but in rather a safer environment. Single women alone do not always fare well on passenger or merchant ships as I'm sure you will know, My Lord."

I did not miss the intended affront present in James's last sentence. I suddenly realised how grateful I was in that it had been him to come across _The Black Pearl_. perhaps it was not so lucky for Sparrow and his crew, but they had been well fed and would only find themselves in real danger when they reached port and James handed them over to the relevant authorities. Another captain with another type of crew would certainly not have treated me so well. I knew my grumblings at the beginning were my true feelings at the time but although I'd been ignored and abandoned to wander the decks as such, I'd been in no danger whatsoever. Not even Mr. Hawkins would really attempt anything for fear of repercussion from James. Even the simple act of him moving to take the seat directly next to me a few moments before had been a mark not just of his respect for me, but for all women.

"That is true, and can be said of papists also," the Viscount added conversationally. "That is what you are is it not, Miss?"

"What did you just call me?" I cried incredulously.

"Catholics and Papists; are they not the same thing?"

"Then I might call you a heretic and a betrayer of the one true religion!" If I'd felt a spark of anger before, I think it was ignited by such a turn of conversation. "I'm well aware I'm in a room full of protestants and take no issue with it. Do you think I have not come up against such obstacles before? The whole world over wants to make their hatred of Catholics known, but you're happy enough to steal all of the gold that belongs to the catholic church aren't you? You can't have it both ways!"

"How like a catholic to be dramatic," he chuckled and his men joined in. "No, I think it must be that hair of yours. You redheads are always the feisty ones, shame about the religion and the accent but the right man would knock that all out of you!"

My jaw dropped as everyone but James and I fell about laughing. "Perhaps we might consider it a reasonable time for Miss O'Connell and myself to retire my lord? I thank you for being such a gracious host but we should-"

"What, is your little friend too sensitive to listen to a few jokes Commodore? If she's that delicate she can't be cut out for life at sea at all!"

"Do you think I haven't heard the jokes?" I cried so loudly that everyone fell silent. "I've spent my life hearing them! Even back in Ireland we heard the slurs and the disgusting remarks from the English army. Your King has sanctioned his armies to beat and bully and rape the Irish people and then laugh at them afterwards, as if we brought it upon ourselves. Do you think I'm sensitive? I'll wager I've tougher skin than all of you here put together!"

They were laughing directly at me then, but I didn't care. It was their way of trying to belittle me and I wasn't of the kind to let it happen so easily. "No, I've heard the jokes as well as any man here. Bog-jumper, coal cracker, donkey, Irish Harp, Fenian... The list goes on. The hate and discrimination we all take on a daily basis only serves to make us stronger." They were all roaring with laughter at the crude names I'd listed and I carried on, not sure why I was suddenly so keen to keep them laughing at my own expense. "Don't strike a match near my hair or we'll all be engulfed in wildfire! Oh but it gets worse, sure on the seventh day didn't God rest; but before that he squatted over the side of England and shat out Ireland!"

There was uproar, they were hitting the table with their tankards and spittle flew everywhere as they chocked on their laughter. James did not laugh but instead turned to look at me as I grimaced. I shrugged at him as if I didn't care. The truth was I did care and was repulsed to be in the room with men who found what I had said funny.

"And to think that I've been calling you a papist Miss!" the Viscount roared. "Indeed you're so much more refreshing than that! I believe our King would find your humour refreshing also!"

"Except that he's not our king though is he?" I added mildly. "He's yours! The Irish people don't want an English King governing us!"

"Well why ever not?" cried the Viscount. "After all, all of the best men are English. There's no one better for the job."

"Aye your king may be English, but Jesus Christ is Irish so stick that in your pipe and smoke it!"

"My goodness, if id known that Catholics could be so humorous I'd have had a bit more time for them! No indeed, I can see all of your attractions now Miss! Those bright cunning eyes and the almost mythical hair combined with your smart wit and self deprecating humour. Say Commodore, wouldn't it be a rare treat for Miss O'Connell here to complete her journey aboard my ship? I too am sailing for England after a fashion."

I was already rising to my feet when I felt the lightest touch of James's fingers against my wrist. I did not need his warning as I turned towards the door. "I think I need some air," I supplied to him thinly before slipping away. Their laughter followed me as I walked briskly back out onto deck and sucked in gulpfuls of air. What I would have given to be in a cabin alone with the Viscount; just me and him and the knife tucked into my belt. Men like him were the epitome of everything I hated. I'd have made quick work of that leering smirk with my knife if I'd been given the chance.

I glanced towards _The Surgence_ and saw nearly all of the crew assembled on deck with weapons resting nearby. I heeded James's words though and made no move to leave the Viscount's ship. I waved to Lieutenant Thompson who was gazing across at me in concern and he seemed satisfied that everything was fine.

"You there lass!"

I turned on my heel as a crew member approached me. "Are you from Kerry?" I asked him suddenly as I replayed the two words he had spoken in my head.

"To be sure! Whereabouts are you from Miss?"

"Cork!" It was almost rejuvinating to hear another Irish accent again after so many months.

"I thought you'd be from Meath, what with you sailing with O'Malley!" he cried as he reached her. "Wasn't that where he was from? I thought you might be from the same place s'all. Rather a stupid thought for me to have now I think on it! T'was the hair that gave you away. They always said there was a lass with flames for hair sailing with Mick."

I chuckled a little. "Say, if you know of Mick; have you heard word lately of his brother Patrick?"

The man shook his head. "Do you think I'd still be sailing with that English arse if I had lass? I had to get out of Ireland, but if you see that Patrick one you tell him there's men wanting to sail with him!"

"I'll be sailing with him myself soon, all being well," I supplied. "As soon as I find him that is!"

"Aye they say he's a slippery one that Patrick! But sure you had the best captain there was! There's many a man and woman from home who wanted to sail with Mick O'Malley. Well respected man he was. T'is a right shame lass." He patted her shoulder gently and she smiled up at him.

"I know, but there will be the like again I can tell you! I don't mean Patrick now before you laugh, but I'll have a ship myself one day of and Irish crew that will be as well respected as any."

"Miss O'Connell!" James was striding across the deck towards me when I turned in the direction of his voice.

I threw one last smile at the Irishman. "Keep a weather eye on the horizon for that ship!"

"That I will lass!"

James was eyeing me suspiciously. "Fraternising with the enemy now are you Miss O'Connell?" I turned towards him to offer a rebuttal, but he was actually smirking. "There was me thinking you'd never converse with an Englishman again after what occurred below."

"That man's not English," I laughed as I realised he was trying to joke with me. "He's Irish."

"I see," James mumbled as he watched the Irishman walking away over his shoulder.

"Oh what now?" I muttered as I saw the Viscount striding towards us from the doorway to his cabin.

"Miss, I wanted to speak with you privately before you took your leave if the Commodore would consent to it."

If the Viscount had expected James to agree to such a thing, it appeared he was wrong. James said absolutely nothing, but stayed resolutely at my side. "I don't see why the Commodore can't stay," I shrugged. I was secretly glad that James was reluctant to leave me. "I doubt that what you have to say can be anything so secretive that he can't hear of it."

The Viscount nodded solemnly. "I suppose it is not. I simply wanted to enquire of O'Malley's ship _The Grace_. You see, I heard tell that he had quite a few rather expensive and rare maps aboard his ship. I wondered if you might know where they ended up Miss?"

I shook my head. "I had no idea that any of Mick's maps were anything out of the ordinary to be honest."

"But they could be valued Miss, if you could tell me where they might have gone?"

"In any case," James interrupted the conversation. "We found _The Grace_ some weeks ago My Lord. Anything of value had been stripped from it, including any charts or maps. I'm inclined to think you would know much more about that than we would. Goodnight."

James's hand was pressing against the small of my back then, pushing me towards the side of the ship. I climbed up onto the railing and Lieutenant Thompson stepped forward to help me down. I had glanced down as James crossed behind me to glimpse the name upon the side of the Viscount's ship; _The King's Inquisitor_.

I did not feel at ease even after _The King's Inquisitor_ had vanished entirely from sight. It was dark when we returned to the ship, and I could not shake the feeling that we were still being watched. It was so late that some of the officers had retired to bed already, but I knew I'd not get much sleep.

"Miss O'Connell?" James was approaching me across the main deck. "Might you care for refreshment? I was just about to take some myself in my cabin."

There was something in his question that was not quite right, but regardless of my curiosity I knew I had to refuse. "I don't think that's a very good idea Commodore, do you? There's reputation to think of after all."

"Yes of course!" came his stiff reply. "Forgive me Miss, I did not think. Of course you would think upon such things readily. I think you have quite the knack for self-preservation even if you cannot see so yourself."

He was turning to leave again and I really did roll my eyes that time. "Commodore I wasn't talking about my reputation. I was thinking of yours actually! Should a man of your standing be drinking alone with the likes of me? Did you not hear all that?" I jutted my chin out in the direction of which I'd caught my last glimpse of the lamps of _The King's Inquisitor_ before it vanished into the night. "You'd do better to keep your distance."

James smiled grimly. "Miss O'Connell, nothing could be further from the truth. Of course I respect your decline of my offer though. I'll say goodnight then."

I meandered slowly across the deck and watched him as he retreated back towards his cabin. It wasn't until I reached the stairs that I realised what I had said sounded rather foolish. After everything that had occurred that evening, perhaps it was ungrateful to be seen to refuse such an offer. He had been protective of me without my having to ask, and he had also not stepped in to stop my rather wild mouth from running away with me. It was a curious thing really, that he had not tried to quiet me when surely he must have found some of the things I had said offensive. After all he was himself English and a Protestant. Perhaps he knew readily that I did not mean what I had said, but that I'd been driven by the discrimination I met to stand up for myself. It became apparent to me that I needed to know why he had not stepped in. I turned on my heel.

"Have you got any Irish Whiskey?" I asked as I leaned my head around the door of his cabin.

He glanced up from the decanter in his hand and the glass upon the table before him and smiled lightly at me. "Only scotch I'm afraid."

I shrugged as I crossed the room towards him and he glanced back down to pour a second glass. "I suppose they're celts too so it'll do just fine."

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona and James have one of two quite important conversations coming up! We find out a little bit more about how James sees Fiona, and why he's so transfixed by her necklace!**_


	23. Chapter Twenty Three - A Simple Act

**_Thank you to the guest for the review! You are dead right, it's not the last we'll see of the Viscount. He will be cropping up again soon! I'm glad my thoughts on the characters is coming across and you're picking them up!_**

 ** _I love the conversation that takes place in this chapter. I feel like James is finally going to let us all in a bit! This is the first of two important conversations between James and Fiona that will ultimately bring them closer together!_**

 ** _Please review and let me know what you think!_**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Twenty Three - A Simple Act of Kindness_**

 _All things uncomely and broken, all things_ worn _out and old,_

 _The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart,_

 _The heavy steps of the_ ploughman _, splashing the wintry_ mould _,_

 _Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart._

 _The wrong of unshapely_ things, _is a wrong too great to be told;_

 _I hunger to build them anew, and sit on a green knoll apart,_

 _With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made like a casket of gold_

 _For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart._

 _ **W.B. Yeats - The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart**_

* * *

The wind changed direction and howled past the window as I took a seat with the offered whiskey glass in my hand. I sipped the familiar tasting liquid and felt warmth immediately begin to grow somewhere low down in my chest. Mick had not been an advocate of the binge drinking that was considered common place in Ireland as he understood how quickly people could become tainted by such a reliance. That was not to say that he did not believe that a drink or two was heartwarming and somewhat of a reward after a long day of hard work. There had been whiskey aboard _The Grace_ and some wine, but he'd steered clear of rum because he'd witnessed the behaviour such a drink could cause. There was a light ale for during the day too, but on the whole his crew seemed to know their limits. It seemed to be a similar case aboard _The Surgence_ where there was a small ale from the galley for the crew and water always on deck, with the wines and whiskey reserved for the officers.

All of that was somewhat reassuring. I'll not lie and say I don't like a drink. I'm Irish so it's sort of in my blood really. I think it's fair to say I'm capable of handling my liquor though, unlike others. I think its always worrying for women to be amongst a group of drunken bawdy men because there's the potential for anything to happen. In most cases, there's no danger and even if the men are a little uncouth with their words there's no real danger. It doesn't stop us worrying though. If a man is drunk enough to think that commenting on a woman's shape or form is acceptable; what else will he think he can get away with? Even as someone who is capable of handling herself, I don't like finding myself in that situation. We've all heard the stories whether we like to admit it or not. Out on the sea there's no escape for a woman, as Anamaria has told me on a few occasions. There is no flight, so you simply have to fight. Trying to laugh it off and join in can sometimes diffuse the situation but on occasions it can make the situation worse if the men think you're up for more of a laugh than you really are.

I've been grateful not to find myself in those kind of situations much since I left Ireland for the sea. I always had Mick hovering somewhere over my shoulder if we were around men we did not know all that well though, so I never considered myself in any real danger. I had come to realise very quickly that there was little danger aboard _The Surgence_ either. All of the crew seemed a respectable bunch, and since Lieutenant Groves' passing they had taken to being almost friendly. The officers were all happy to be on good terms with me and I felt particularly comfortable with them because of the added reassurance that they were James's most trusted men. Even Mr. Hawkins who liked to let his mouth run away with him at times was not someone I thought of as posing any type of real threat.

It felt odd to me to consider that perhaps I owed James thanks for my relative safety when really a woman should feel so always. I'd been lucky and because of that I was seeing what the world really ought to be and not what it really was. I think perhaps I do that with people as well. I see the potential where perhaps there is none at all. That was not the case with James though. I knew even then that I'd never before met a man with so much potential. Even as he sat before me sipping on a glass of whiskey in the few moments of silence before conversation resumed I could very well imagine that he would achieve whatever he put his mind to.

"I wanted to thank you," he eventually began. "Both for your help in the cave and for earlier this evening."

I laughed lightly. "There was me thinking you were going to tell me off for my smart mouth earlier. Even I can say that I got a bit carried away."

James shook his head at me as he offered me one of those warm smiles that had me yet again wondering how any woman could refuse him anything. "Miss I do believe that is a trait of yours that shall never be remedied. Rather than admonishing you therefore, I think the best resolution is surely to humour you. In any case, I understand your anger and your need to speak for your home. Granted, you may get carried away with these things but I am inclined to think that is because your anger has been repressed and held back more often than not. Therefore when you do have cause to unleash it, it becomes more ferocious. Certainly aboard this ship there were long periods of time when I believe you spoke very little at all."

"I think I had other things upon my mind though."

"Agreed." James leaned back a little in his chair and took another swig of whiskey before he continued. "I think perhaps you are still owed an apology Miss. I think when you first came aboard this ship there was perhaps a lack of consideration for what you had suffered. To leave you to your own devices and to wallow in your grief was not entirely right I think. Now I recall how foolish that was."

I appreciated this new way of thinking, but I felt bad that he felt guilty when really he had done nothing badly wrong. "Commodore I don't think you can readily blame yourself that much. I was angry and upset as would be expected, but I didn't want to talk to anyone really. I didn't want inclusion. All that I really wanted was to get off this ship. You scuppered the plan I had in my mind of finding Patrick O'Malley."

"Though to do so you would be required to help Sparrow find _The Crown of Immortality,_ which I now understand that you have no knowledge of. I wonder at your thinking Sparrow was the best man to sail with."

I shrugged. "I suppose he was the lesser of many evils. I was safe aboard the pearl you know. I'd also paid the man so I can't imagine him trying to keep me by force."

"He is still a pirate," James added lightly.

"Oh I don't doubt that," I agreed with a smile. "You can't deny that there's a part of him that knows what he's doing though. Commodore you saw how he sailed us through that storm. That takes skills that only come about from years and years of experience at sea. You're revered across the Caribbean and you still could not manage it. I doubt the best of admirals could. There's just something about Jack Sparrow that lures you in, almost like some kind of drug. Being around him and that infectious and mad kind of determination and hope gives you this sense of belief that anything's possible if you've got enough nerve."

"And yet he will meet his end at the gallows Miss O'Connell, as do all pirates."

I grimaced. I tried my hardest to banish the images of Sparrow and his friends walking to the gallows from my mind, but I could not shake the sudden sensation of a noose around my own neck. I reached up and tugged at the collar of my shirt as if that might ease what I was feeling as James reached forward and poured us both another glass of whiskey. Whilst he was preoccupied I gave my head a shake to dispel the negative thoughts swirling around my mind and took another swig of the whiskey.

"Don't you think that's what he wants though Commodore?" I asked quietly, trying to keep conversation flowing as I still tugged at my collar. "Jack Sparrow has no fear really. I think he likes being so close to danger. It makes him feel special."

"Precicely the reason he should face the noose Miss. What trouble might he have gotten you into if we had not come across the pearl that day? You did not wish to begin the life of a pirate, but simply to find your place in this world. His dispicable beahviour would certainly drive others straight into the line of fire. You are not the first to fall under his spell of sorts."

"So that's how you see it, is it?" His words had been like a freezing cold bucket of water thrown over my shoulder. I knew he was speaking of his Miss Swann. No matter the topic of conversation, he would always perhaps subconsciously find some way to bring it back around to her. Everything that there was in the world still made him think of her and of his own pain. I tugged more aggressively upon my collar as the imaginary noose tightened a notch.

His unwavering gaze suddenly had me dropping my hand into my lap. "Perhaps this is a topic of conversation for another time Miss." His stern gaze brokered no argument and I realised he had been aware that I was uncomfortable all along. "I did not wish to discuss Sparrow over whiskey with you."

"So you did mean to tell me off then?" I tried at a semebelnce of humour.

"Would you pay any attention to a word I said if I did upbraid you Miss O'Connell?"

I laughed slightly and the action seemed to lessen my feelings of suffocation slightly. "Do you know something, I might. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't always have. I was sure when I first came aboard that I would never respect anything you said but how can I still say that? I think you've proven yourself to be a decent man. I think I have a lot more respect for you now than I did back then. There you are, does that surprise you?"

"You are still of your own mind though. I think Miss that if I gave an instruction to you that was so against everything that you believed in, you would still find a way to disobey my orders. For example, if I instructed you to consider entering into some form of communication with your uncle; what would you think then?"

My reaction wasn't what he'd been expecting, he says. He had expected anger and confusion that he would say such a thing. He had expected my smart mouth to run away with me again. Instead I was slightly stunned that he would suggest such a thing of course, but my first thought was fear. I did not quite know if this was some joke he was making in an attempt to figure out whether I would in fact one day consider reuniting with my uncle. If I did, and I was in his charge wouldn't that be quite the windfall for James? There was nothing in the world at all that could quite scare me as much as the thought of being in the presence of my uncle again. Just considering it and the fact that James might attempt to change my mind on such a thing sent shivers down my spine.

"You...you wouldn't ask me to do that," I stammered quietly. "You sh...shouldn't."

James was watching my reaction intently and I suddenly realised that maybe he was trying to fish for information. "You must consider Miss, that I know nothing of what came to pass between yourself and your uncle. Although I would not ask such a thing from you as I have observed in you a desire for the life you have lived since you left home, I am in no way informed enough to know just how much I may ask of you. Do not misunderstand me; I do not mean to pry for your secrets are entirely your own. I simply mean to say that we are as yet somewhat strangers to one another. I still think therefore that you have within you some strength and resilience to defy any instruction you are given. I do not ask you to tell me how you came to be parted from your Uncle Miss O'Connell, but I would like to enquire as to who else may be aware of your secret. In order to protect it so myself, I believe that information may be significant."

I breathed a slight sigh of relief that he wasn't about to send me back to London to meet with my uncle, but I still thought it a strange thing to say. It took me a second or two to clear my mind of the fear that had risen within me before I felt calmed enough to answer his question. "Anamaria knows. I did not tell her so I think she guessed. I don't think Mai rightly knows who I am or what any of it would even mean but I think it's safe to say that she knows I'm not entirely what I present myself to be."

James nodded slowly but his eyes never left mine. He cleared his throat slowly and took a swig of whiskey. "Does Sparrow know?"

"God I should hope not!" I cried. "Commodore do you not think he'd have sold me off if he knew! The lure of gold would be far too much for him. Not that such thoughts make him an evil, but I suppose I'm coming to realise I cannot trust him as much as I perhaps have in the past."

"That is a wise consideration Miss." James leaned forward then in his chair as his eyes bore into mine. "I believe I have unnerved you a little. Forgive me, but it was partly intentional. I meant what I said in that your secrets are your own to keep Miss, but without prying I must still try to gauge the gravity of the situation. You are after all aboard my ship."

I couldn't blame him for thinking so. It only made more sense with each second that passed that he was worried. After all, the ship we were upon was commissioned by my uncle and James would face serious consequences if my presence aboard was ever discovered. "I think I understand you Commodore. I'm sorry that my keeping secrets has sort of put you in an awkward position. Don't think I don't know how much trouble it might cause you. You know though that it was never my desire to come aboard this ship. Indeed it was the last thing I wanted."

James shook his head then, confusion marring his features. "Although I am now considering such a point Miss O'Connell, I do not believe I thought of it before. No, I had no worry for this ship or my commission. I believe I thought only of how we might keep you from harm should we ever have the misfortune to come across your uncle or someone else who might know your identity. Your reaction to my mention of you having further dealings with your uncle showed me that in all seriousness, you believe yourself to be at risk if you were to be in the presence of such a man. That is the information I required to ensure that we were better prepared."

I shrugged away all that he had said, not wanting to let him know that I'd been affected by what he said. It appeared I'd been right to trust him. He was actively thinking of my safety in a way I'd never thought he would. Deep down I knew he would do the same for just about anyone because he had a good heart but I will not lie to you reader and say that I was not flattered, for I was. "Why didn't you just ask me then?"

James threw me a knowing smirk. "Miss, would you have told me? You are not the type to scare easily, that I can tell. I also can tell you are not therefore not the type to openly admit to being frightened. You really have shown yourself to be rather resilient. There is no shame in your fear of your uncle, and I say that confidently even though I do not know what caused your need to leave London. I will not make promises though Miss O'Connell. I will tell you now that there may come a time when I must ask you to tell me the story, and it will not be to misuse it. I only ask that you respect that I do so out of necessity."

"I've already told you that I do respect you," I replied automatically. "Even before you revealed that you'd been keeping my secret for me. I wouldn't have crossed that daft bridge in that cave otherwise."

"Ah yes, the cave," James mused as he swirled the finger of whiskey in his glass gently. "Yet again there I believe you surprised me Miss O'Connell. You really are much more than you appear to be. I wonder if I might hear your observations of that sword that we found. You did not say much on the subject before."

The change of conversation topic was a welcome one for I was beginning to feel rather hot. "The sword, now that's a question. There are many mythical swords in the history of this world Commodore, and quite a few of them Irish. I know you're not the superstitious type though Commodore; so am I really the best person to ask?" I didn't mention of course that I had an inkling that I'd seen the sword in my mind before we ever entered that cave.

"Yes I believe I can be relied upon to declare any such theories as superstitious nonsense Miss O'Connell." I laughed lightly. "I simply do not know who might be the best to ask though. In London I think I would be required to speak with a weapons expert or with someone who is charged with preserving old relics from many moons ago. Think of the Tower of London and so many more fortresses across the country that still store weaponry that first saw battle hundreds of years ago. I do think we may be agreed that the sword is certainly old."

"Do you think that Viscount Townshend knows you have the sword Commodore?" I asked then as a thought occurred to me. "He did say he wanted to discuss something with you but I didn't really catch him actually broaching any serious matter, unless he spoke briefly with you after I left the cabin."

"You noticed that did you? It appears I am not the only observant one present Miss O'Connell." James poured us both another glass of whiskey and I was pleased to see both measures were equal. Sometimes men have poured me the smallest slither, not to conserve whiskey but because they think I cannot take the same libations as a man. "No I do not rightly think that there was ever a matter he wished to speak with me upon. He cannot rightly know of the sword as only you and I, and a select few of my officers know of it. Indeed I think the offer to dine with him would not have cropped up if he had not noticed you."

I quickly banished the thought that perhaps Mai also knew about the sword from what she had seen of my mind as I tried to understand what James meant. "Well that really is nonsense," I replied. "I can't see why I'd be of any importance...unless? Do you think he knew as soon as he saw me that I'd sailed with O'Malley? That's what the matter was then, Mick's charts?"

James chuckled drily as he gazed at me, his green eyes almost twinkling with mirth in the candlelight. "No Miss O'Connell, I do not rightly think it was maps and charts that had him requesting our presence at his table. No indeed, as I said I think that decision was made upon sight of you."

I was still gazing back at him rather incredulously. "Then why? All he did was tease me and rile me. Was that what he was after; an hour or two of entertainment?"

James appeared then to be trying to consider how to put his words. "Miss, I think at some point you are going to have to consider that you are not altogether...ah... You are not altogether as inconsequential and inconspicuous as you would believe. There is as I have already stated an underlying resilience in your form, a quiet consideration that... Miss the long and short of it is that men will appraise you and there is very little you may do about it." I squirmed a little, suddenly realising where this conversation was headed. The fact that James was trying so hard to school his awkward words into something that resembled politeness made me want to hide my face behind one of his fancy cushions. "The truth is Miss O'Connell that you shall have to come to terms with the fact that you are a pleasant looking young woman who will catch the attention of men of all walks of life. I do suspect you've never been told as such and it doesn't matter why. O'Malley as you told me was still grieving for the loss of his wife and saw you as a friend or perhaps even as a surrogate daughter. He would not have thought to give you such praise for fear it would have gone to your head. That is a foolish notion however. You are one of the most rational women; no the most rational people I have ever met. You would have refuted such praise as you now are considering my words as idle politeness. Do give it some thought Miss O'Connell. Do not think that all men consider women a means to an end."

"I don't think that," I said quickly. "I know that men are capable of more. Mick loved his wife, my father loved my mother and you even harbour feelings for a woman. Those feelings are not with regards to a means to an end. Women who are great beauties have such luck though in meeting such men, or they have something about them in their manner or speech or thoughts that makes them a considerate match. What chance do I have against all that?"

James smiled knowingly again. "Miss I think we will exhaust this subject entirely without you reaching a point where you intentionally view yourself how the rest of the world does. One day you will meet a man; no you will," he added as he wagged a finger at my shaking head. "You will meet someone who you revere above all others and you will be forced to consider yourself a cut above the rest because you will have no choice. You are still young though and such things develop more with age. Indeed I do not believe I know your age. Might you permit me to know it?"

I did not see the harm in telling him my age at least, even though I knew he'd likely have all sorts of ideas running through his mind about just why I'd run from my uncle. My telling him my age might make those ideas even more abhorrent. "I'm two and twenty at my last count. The days and weeks can all roll into one at sea so I tried to count by the seasons and the change in weather. That is I know I was born on the fourteenth of February of the year 1707 but at sea it's so easy to loose track of dates and months."

James was nodding slowly. "It is September, so you are right in your estimations." He appraised every inch of her face then, as if the age did not quite meet what he saw before him. "In terms of your appearance you still look younger, but I think perhaps I put you at a little older than that by a few years. I think your maturity and sensitivity influenced such thoughts; but then you must have been very young when you left home, surely? If I'm correct, you sailed with O'Malley for six years which means you left home at sixteen?"

"Fourteen actually." I was reluctant to give such an answer but I did not feel I could outwardly lie in answer to his question. I could see the surprise on his features that told me his mind had strayed to where I hadn't wanted it to. He was even more likely to ask questions now, to want to know the truth. "There's a story to how I met Mick you know. I didn't just leave home and run right into him. That would have been the best thing to happen to me."

James was true to his word in not prying. I think he knew that I did not want to delve any more deeply into what had happened all those years ago, and I hoped he was wrong in his estimations and that the time never would come when I had to tell him the whole truth. "Miss O'Connell I appreciate how honest you have been with me. I have a great appreciation for your aid in many camps. Without your help I do believe I'd have still been sailing aimlessly with no destination in sight. I do wish to thank you but I wonder how I might do that?"

"A name would be nice," I exclaimed. "You could give me the name of the man who killed my friend and shot me. I know and respect your reasoning of not doing so though. Anyway, you don't need to thank me. I was helping myself was I not? Without you finding something of value I'd have been kept here aboard this ship. I've also managed to help Mai and Anamaria in the process. I'm glad you decided that you would release them. Although I'm never one to admit failure or weakness, I'm ready to say that upon the sea is a hard place for a woman to survive. Perhaps if nothing else you will perhaps understand the plight of a woman and what she might have suffered before you condemn her. Take myself for example. I had no choice but to leave land because I feared I'd be caught. To me it seemed that to be always upon the sea and on the move was the only way to stay one step ahead of my uncle. Many women might have a similar story."

"You already know I have been thinking upon all of that," James agreed. "I do wish that my behaviour towards you had been more pleasant when you first came aboard. I should have spoken to you as an equal. I was so sure that you knew something, that you could help me. I believe it is fair to say my vision was clouded back then. It still is in some ways. I wish to make amends for it though. Rio de Janeiro is a lively port in which there are all sorts of amenities. Would you perhaps allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine? He is a doctor, my surgeon aboard the Dauntless for a time before he retired to port to continue his profession in a more excitable location."

"A doctor? For what?" I was feigning indifference, not really sure why he was offering me such a thing.

"Miss O'Connell I am no fool. I know you have an injured knee which has likely never been treated by a doctor. I know you are apprehensive of doctors but my friend is of a respectable reputation. I would not recommend him if I thought anything untoward might occur. I will do you the service of saying that you hide your injury quite well, and there is very little evidence of a limp when you are walking. When you are stood still though, you often lean all of your weight upon your good leg. I would be pleased to take you to meet my friend when we make port."

Something within my mind felt sorry for him then. I was under no allusions he thought he owed me something. "Commodore, I appreciate you offering such a thing, but there's no need really. It's an old injury that plays up from time to time but it's not really something that gives me too much trouble." James says he saw straight through my lie. "You know, you don't always have to return someone's help with another favour. Where I grew up, if you could help someone then you did. No one ever really expected payment for what they could do. It was about doing what you could and hoping that your good deed would fare you well in later life. How odd a world you must have grown up in Commodore, where every deed must be repaid no matter how small. I never helped you because I wanted anything in return. I think in the beginning I was hoping for my freedom to leave this ship but by the time I was trying to negotiate with Jack Sparrow I think I was hoping that you would get what you sought for your own peace of mind. I don't like this idea of everyone thinking they are automatically indebted to someone who helps them out. Don't get me wrong if a situation arises where they can help, then they should as pleases them to be a good person. There should be no expectancy though. Not everyone can return the favour so readily. Helping should not be about what you can get in return. I know you did not mean your offer that way Commodore, for it was kindly meant. I thank you for it, but there's really no need."

"I do not think Miss O'Connell after hearing that; that anyone could say you would make a decent pirate. There is something about the way of the Irish people," James commented, "That makes me feel like all of the rest of us are inadequate in comparison. You speak of kindness and compassion as if it is a way of life that is to be resolutely followed. Indeed I have heard such a logic before. My father served in Ireland for a time in his younger years. I am not sure whereabouts though. I doubt my father was entirely sure either, for as a young man he was flippant and probably rather entitled. He thought the world owed him something I believe. He was not yet married and had not even met my mother at that point so I think he can be permitted some recklessness. Ironically it was his first form of freedom in serving so far from home and his strict upbringing. Himself and his comrades were known back then for their rather wild behaviour. He became entangled with a woman who was betrothed to another. Neither my father or the woman thought of their encounter as anything serious but when the woman's fiancéfound out, he chased my father out of the town.

"He was alone and far from his regiment who had lately moved on into the next town as they were due to leave within a day or two. He decided he would try to walk to the next town but found he walked for quite some time without meeting civilisation. He had no money upon him to pay for the post carriage that would have saved him the walk. He knew he'd get a thrashing if he went back to the town for his left behind effects so he carried on. Along that road he came across a woman who was evidently at the point of starvation. She appeared to have walked a great distance and was trying to reach the town he had just left. Now my father was a self-entitled brat who felt so sorry for himself that this poor poverty-stricken woman took pity upon him. She pressed into his hand a trinket once he had told her his story and shown her his distress at potentially being left behind by his regiment. He took the gift despite knowing that it was likely the only thing the poor woman had left of any value. He intended to use it to pay for transport but not long after he left the woman he lost the trinket. I do not know how, but it shows my father's lack of respect for just what the woman had given up for him. How was he to know that trinket didn't mean the world to that poor woman. Of course in his later years and by the time I was old enough to be told such a story, he had seen the error of his ways. How he wished he had not accepted the gift and had let the woman keep it. That woman's compassion taught him much about life. A simple act of kindness shaped the way he would live out his marriage as a good husband and father."

My mind had already latched onto an elusive thought. "What did this trinket look like?"

Jams smiled warily at me then, as if he knew he had been caught out. "Like the very one that you wear around your neck Miss. Of course it cannot be the same one. That design is common in Ireland and it was likely mass-produced as my father did not think it was worth much. It was solid gold but he said it was not the most attractive of pieces."

"So you're saying that you don't like my necklace then Commodore?" I joked.

He smiled warmly. "On the contrary, it reminded me of the lessons I was taught by my father about compassion and kindness. I believe I like it very much."

The air changed so swiftly in the room that I knew I had to get up and leave. I placed the empty whiskey glass down on the table and stood. If James had noticed how the atmosphere had switched he did not show it, but instead wished me a courteous good night. I hurried from his cabin, sure that if I stayed any longer I would not be able to curb my gut instinct to lean across the table and kiss him. Now that I understood his connection to my necklace, I could only appreciate him more. His father had clearly been the one to instil that unwavering sense of decency and respect in him. He was fond of such lessons, that much was clear. He was also open-minded (perhaps not so much about pirates) and viewed everyone as an equal. I hoped I had helped him reinforce those lessons somewhat. I sat on the bed in my cabin and stared down at the necklace in my hands for the longest time as I marvelled at how such a trinket had bewitched James so. I had not told him of course that I thought it might be possible that the necklace was the same one his father had been given. I myself had found it in a field so even though it was a common design in Ireland, the little gold Irish knot did have potential.

I stuffed it back under my shirt as I heard footsteps outside my door. The deck had been almost deserted as I had been returning to bed so I did wonder who it might have been. The footsteps did not proceed down the corridor as I expected them to but stopped outside my door. I dismissed the thought that it might be James almost as soon as the thought entered my head. He would not behave so for fear of making a woman frightened or uncomfortable. In the silent moments that passed he would have announced himself. Then the footsteps started again, going back the way they had come. I stayed still on my bed for a moment or two until I was sure I could not hear anything else. Then I opened the door and looked out. Even in the darkness I was certain there was no one there. The space was empty. Just as I was about to close the door again I glanced down at the floor, and found a glass of whiskey there. I frowned as I bent down to lift the glass I was sure I'd been drinking from moments before.

I was careful of both my knee and the glass of whiskey as I climbed the stairs to the main deck again and descended into the corridor that led to James's cabin. For a second or two I paused outside his door, not sure I wanted to enter and potentially find him in a state of undress, but the occasion called for a little courage. I knocked lightly on the door that was still ajar and it swung open gently. I had not noticed another door hidden within the panelling of the cabin before but I realised it must be a small washroom as James's head appeared around the door frame.

"Miss?"

To my relief he was still clothed although his wig was missing and so was his heavy overcoat and waistcoat. I tried not to think of the thick brown hair that was tied neatly back at the nape of his neck, and the exposed base of said neck in only his linen shirt. He must have sensed my apprehension as I crossed into the room again because he left the washroom, his boots echoing across the floor as he walked towards me.

"I found this outside my room Commodore." I held up the glass. "I heard footsteps come and go from the door of my cabin and when I looked outside, I found this."

James stared down at the glass in my hand before a second before his eyes met mine. He turned quickly towards the table where we had sat earlier and my eyes followed his. There was only one glass remaining, his glass. "I have not left this room Miss-"

"I'm not saying that you have Commodore."

"Then what are you saying?" James's face was suddenly stricken as he turned back to me.

"I'm saying that someone is creeping about below decks Commodore."

He raised a brow then. "Have you met Mr. Hawkins?"

I shook my head even as I wanted to laugh at his attempt at humour. "How did he get into your cabin and take the glass though? He's not the quietest of creatures."

"No he is not." James gazed at me for a second before he took the whisky glass from my hand and placed it on the table again. He lifted a lantern from his desk and lit the candle inside with a taper. "Come with me."

We left his cabin behind and I followed him out onto deck. We ventured below again towards the officer's cabins as we both looked about us, but the whole ship appeared to be asleep. At last we reached my door and James motioned for me to stand behind him. He stepped into my cabin and glanced about him. He even crouched to check under the bed before he turned back to me and gestured for me to cross the threshold. We swapped places so that he stood in the corridor again.

"Lieutenant Holmes is on duty at the helm," James announced. "I will speak with him and ascertain if he saw anyone besides ourselves crossing the deck at this late hour. Miss I want you to close this door and ensure the latch is down before I leave you. Don't open the door again until morning. I'll have someone come and knock upon your door."

I nodded and he stood back to watch as I closed the door. I offered him a small smile through the diminishing crack in the door and he returned it but the smile did not meet his eyes. I secured the latch and stepped back. Only then did I hear him begin to walk back towards the stairs.

* * *

 _ **I definitely feel like James and Fiona have grown closer during this chapter! The revelation about the necklace is almost like the underpinning of this story in that it actually began quite a long time before James and Fiona were born!**_

 _ **I'm curious, who do you think is sneaking about below decks? Could it be Hawkins or another member of the crew and their stalker tendencies, or is it something a little more sinister?**_

 _ **In the next chapter Fiona comes face to face with some mythology, and she tries to prod James in the right direction!**_

 _ **Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**_


	24. Chapter Twenty Four - The Chained Woman

_**Thanks for the reviews!**_

 _ **In this chapter James is forced to confront the myth and legend surrounding the sword he holds in his possession.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter twenty Four -The Chained Woman**_

The ship was alive with movement and yet no one had knocked upon my door yet. I knew very well that it was morning and that it was entirely safe for me to emerge from my cabin. I unhooked the latch and opened the door wide enough to peer out into the corridor. There was no one about. The sounds from the deck were the usual morning occurrences though. I reasoned that perhaps James had forgotten to tell someone to fetch me. I couldn't blame him as he had more than enough on his mind.

I wandered out into the corridor once I had washed and dressed myself and ventured up onto deck. There were no officers about on the main deck but the midshipmen where everywhere, going about their daily chores. It was light, but the sun was still coming up. Perhaps James and his officers hadn't risen yet. I meandered my way across the deck as I looked about for anything to do to occupy my time. Everything seemed in hand though. I headed towards the bow and climbed up onto the forecastle deck where I felt the gentle breeze catch on my hair that I'd left hanging loosely over my shoulders.

The day before had been strange enough and I wanted to go down into the brig to speak to Sparrow and his crew but I wasn't sure what kind of reception I'd get. Although I knew that Mai would speak to me, I wasn't sure that the others trusted me at all. I wanted to tell Sparrow about Viscount Townshend and see what information he might have about the man stored away in that odd mind of his. I was desperate to speak to Mai about the sword too, but I didn't quite know how to do that privately. I decided that I'd go down twice that day. I'd need to venture down late at night to speak to Mai and hope that everyone else in the brig was asleep but that didn't stop me making an early morning visit. I turned with purpose, my next destination the brig but I didn't even get a chance to take a single step.

James was standing before me as if he'd been there all along, but the sight of him was so unusual that I dearly longed to laugh. He was dripping wet, his thick wool coat soaked right through. Rivulets of water rolled onto his forehead from his wig and bits of seaweed clung to all of the gold trimmings of his uniform. His eyes looked blank and tired, as if he had already had his patience tried too much for the day.

"Take a dip did you Commodore?" I asked as I tried not to laugh at the sight of him. I wondered vaguely if that was why no one had come to fetch me from my cabin. I was surprised that he did not answer me, given his candour the evening before but I began to feel slightly unnerved by his gaze which rested coldly upon my face. He took a step closer and I stepped back just as quickly. I was suddenly sure that this was not the same James I knew. Something had happened to him, perhaps when he had gone overboard. His hands were clenched into angry fists that appeared ready to strike. I glanced around me, but no one else had noticed James's odd behaviour. He took the opportunity when my gaze was not directly upon him to take another step. I had nowhere else to go besides climbing out onto the boom jib so I stood my ground, my shoulders falling back.

That was when I knew for certain that it was not James before me. Such a movement of mine normally had his eye line moving so that he was staring at my necklace. His gaze did not falter though. I glanced down towards the deck briefly and sure enough, there was not a drop of water nearby. How were his wet clothes not dripping onto the deck? I tried to school my features into indifference and realised I'd have to get round him towards the main deck again to get help.

"I mean, I'm sure the waters aren't too cold but isn't that a bit excessive for you Commodore?" I tried again although I wasn't sure I wanted an answer from whatever trick it was before me. "You should go and get that wig of yours dried off you know. I mean, your clothes will dry quickly enough in the sun but don't you want to save the powder in your wig?" I was aware I was starting to ramble, but the persistent and penetrating gaze that came from a face so familiar and was yet so alien was making me begin to panic. "Tell you what I'll go and fetch Lieutenant Holmes shall I? I think I recall someone saying to me just the other day that he has a knack for wig care."

Those cold green eyes were watching me intently as if I were a plate of food that was soon to be devoured. I watched slowly as I waited for any movement that might give me a chance to make a run for it. It was when the eyes flitted very quickly to silver that I threw cation to the winds and took off, trying to barrel past the creature. A vice like grip clamped down upon the collar of my shirt and yanked me back. I lost my footing and scrambled for balance as I reached for the knife tucked into my belt. I swung it even as the creature's free hand came up to parry my blow. Flesh like stone met the blade with a clang that reverberated all around and the hand holding my collar threw me backwards towards the bow again. I found my footing just in time to block another attempted grab with my knife.

The wind whistled through the slack sails and the sound carried towards the stern. James was standing in the doorway of the corridor that led to his own cabin. He'd been awoken by Lieutenant Gillette in his need to confirm a heading for the day and they were conversing quietly at the other end of the main deck when Lieutenant Thompson's shout brought their attention towards the bow.

"Commodore Sir!" The young man was standing only a few yards from them, but his hand was held aloft, a finger pointing towards the forecastle deck.

"What on earth..." Gillette muttered as he took a few steps forward, not sure what he was indeed seeing.

James, who had been leaning causally against the door frame as no one could see him that clearly stepped out onto the deck, the golden sword in his hand. He must have been admiring it in his cabin when Gillette came to fetch him, even though James told me he'd been asleep when he recanted his perspective of the story to me. He'd shown the engravings to Gillette as they stood talking in the hopes that his companion recalled some of his own Greek studies from their time at school together.

I ducked another grab attempt and quickly dived to the left as the creature made to tackle me, it's arms snaking out to snare my waist. There's something beneficial about being skinny and small in that you can move a lot more quickly. I turned back as a hand reached out to clamp down upon my shoulder and I drove my knife into the creature's side below the outstretched arm. I knew almost immediately that my attempt had failed. The knife began to tremble in my hand as I tried to pull it free. It would not budge. The creature snarled at me in a sound more inhuman than anything else I've ever heard in my life. Then incredibly, the feeling of the knife handle began to change, softening and shifting until I watched in horror as it disintegrated into what can only be described as something resembling black sand. It was caught by the wind and whisked away. An arm with the force of stone was thrown out and it caught me around the middle in my shock. It was enough to floor me and I began to crawl backwards on my elbows as I realised what was about to happen. The creature crouched as if readying itself to pounce and it's hands were outstretched and ready to grab me. I knew somehow that it was going to take me overboard with it.

My mind went blank and all I could think of was how on earth was I meant to fight off a creature with flesh as hard as rock as he dragged me down to the depths of the ocean. The creature moved towards me then, quickly than before and the hands reached out to snare me, the fingertips of one just grazing the skin of my neck and I let out a yelp of fear even as a strange squelching sound reached my ears. The creature froze above me as if hanging there, the cold silver eyes suddenly distant and unresponsive as I glanced down and noticed the tip of a golden sword protruding from it's chest.

I watched transfixed as the creature began to writhe where it was hanging, shrivelling angrily with a crackling sound that revolted me. Then creature itself began to crack. It's face began to flake away before me and the pieces floated away on the wind. I scrambled to my feet again with my eyes never leaving the disintegrating creature before me until I heard another squelching sound as the sword was pulled free. James stood behind the creature with the sword held aloft in his hand. He was dressed, but barely. His boots and breeches were in place as was his soft linen shirt but it was open at the neck, revealing the beginning of a smattering of hair on his chest and the sleeves had been rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was still partly tied back with the ribbon from the evening before but stands had fallen loose in his sleep to hang around his face. There was an anger and a strength in his eyes at that moment that made the sight of him quite stunning and I'll be honest with you reader, I had to pick me jaw up off the floor.

I turned my gaze back upon the creature that was almost no more until the last few flakes were caught up in the wind and floated up towards the sails. When I glanced back at James, it was the sword that caught my attention. It was glowing and not just in the early morning sunlight. There was an ethereal kind of glow surrounding it, as if it had just come from a furnace. It was humming and singing too as James moved it through the air, suddenly mesmerised by it himself. I knew in that moment that he too could hear and feel it, even if no one else could.

"What was that you were saying about superstisious nonesense Commodore?" I gasped out.

He turned to me and I unclenched my fist. We watched as the remaining black particles that had once been my knife floated up into the wind and vanished. Another piece of Mick, gone.

The candles lit all around the cabin were casting strange shadows even with the fading daylight still visible through the large window. I'd been in James's cabin most of the day after the incident on deck under his orders and was starting to grow restless. He'd brought me back down to his cabin with him, my elbow held tightly in his one hand as he led the way and held the sword in the other. He placed the sword on his desk and only after several reassurances that I was not hurt did he move away from me to dress himself. I'll admit that I watched him because perhaps I have no shame. He turned away from me and removed his shirt to replace it with a new one, then he wound a stockade around his collar and tied it at the base of his neck. Then on went the waistcoat and overcoat and with a smoothing down of his hair he had placed his wig and hat on his head.

"At least we know what was prowling the ship last night," I said to break the tense atmosphere I could feel building up around me.

James nodded at me. "Do you know what that creature was out there, for I did the moment I saw it?"

"Oh I know. I'm surprised that you would though Commodore. Don't you usually say it's all a load of codswallop?"

James sat down beside me on the couch and appraised me carefully. "How else would I earn the respect of my crew Miss? A babbling fool who spouts superstitions all the live long day about creatures of myth and legend would not serve very long as captain aboard a navy ship."

"Is that what I am then, a babbling fool; because I believe in all of that?"

"Far from it Miss."

"It was a Kelpie," I offered gently and he nodded in agreement. "They take the form of a horse along the shore line to lure women to the sea and their deaths. Aboard ships they take the form of a man to try and do the same. Why did they take your form though?"

"Perhaps they thought you might trust me enough to follow me wherever I went."

I shook my head slowly. "Commodore that makes no sense. I don't think the crew aside from your officers would follow you into the sea. why would-"

James appeared a little exasperated as he held up a hand to halt my speech. "Miss O'Connell there must have been a whole deck of midshipmen between you and that creature. Indeed I saw you at the bow before it appeared and there was no evidence of it. I think it came from the staircase that leads down to the lower decks. It was biding it's time until it could have the chance to ensnare you. It must have come aboard when we weighed anchor to approach those islands. That's why it brought you the whiskey last night, to lure you out. The thing is, you are too rational. You came straight here to alert me."

I was shaking my head at him. "Why on earth would it choose me out of everyone on this ship."

James looked directly into my eyes. "It was feeding on your fear."

I bristled slightly at his matter of fact tone. "I'm not scared."

"Oh but you are, Miss O'Connell. I can see it in your eyes no matter how you deny it. You're frightened of something." He stood then as if he suddenly felt the need to run from me. It felt suddenly colder with him not sitting next to me. I watched him as he stepped towards his desk and picked up his pistol which he placed in it's holding along his belt. "You're sure you are not hurt?" I shook my head quickly, already sick of hearing that question. "Then stay here if you would. I think to return to your own cabin might not be the best of ideas."

With that he was gone, and I wondered if he'd felt the tension too. Was that why he wanted to keep me in his cabin? I turned to look about me in the deserted cabin, noticing the shirt he had taken off lying folded neatly on his cabin bed. My first reaction was to roll my eyes, because of course he would be the type to fold his clothing intrinsically. Then I felt an urge to cross the room and place the shirt below my nose to smell it. I resisted. I did not know who might walk back through the cabin door at any moment. I forced myself to move on in my observations and saw the sword again, the sunlight catching it where it lay on the desk. I realised then that perhaps I was not ordered to stay put out of a fear for my safety but to protect the sword. Everyone on deck had seen what had happened after all, and they had seen the sword. James tearing across the deck with it in his hand in a state of casual dress had drawn everyone's attention. Mr. Hawkins had been the first person to barrage us both with questions as James took my elbow in his grip and tried to pull me along with him. He had simply batted Mr. Hawkins out of the way without so much as a word.

James told me later that he'd wanted to restore calm above deck and act like nothing had happened. That meant keeping me in his cabin away from harm. I admit I can see the sense in what he says but that left me on my own for all of the day. Lieutenant Thompson brought me something to eat in the early afternoon and stayed with me for a while as I ate. He told me of James's orders that I should stay where I was even though most of the crew had eventually returned their attention to their work by then. Once I'd eaten he took the plate from me and told me that James had said I was to make use of his drinks cabinet as I saw fit. That made me squirm a bit. I liked Lieutenant Thompson well enough and enjoyed talking to him but I did not feel as comfortable doing so if James had ordered him to keep me company.

"And you're sure you aren't injured Miss?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to be polite when I spoke. "Tell the Commodore I'm entirely fine," I exclaimed jovially. I knew James had sent his Lieutenant to ask such a question. James had asked me so himself at least six times before he'd left me that morning. I regretted him finding out about my knee because I had the feeling I was going to be treated differently because if it.

It was only a while after I lit a few candles in the waning daylight that I began to hear movement along the corridor outside. Gillette bustled in with a small smile and a member of the crew followed carrying a plate of food that was certainly more than I'd eat in a week. I didn't want to protest it in case I wasn't in fact dining alone so I stayed quiet. I was glad I had. A few seconds after the crew member retreated from the cabin James appeared and removed his hat. Placing it by the sword on his desk he then turned towards me. With the smallest of nods he gestured for me to join himself and Lieutenant Gillette at the table. I hated their proper ways in not sitting down until I'd sat too. It made things awkward as I couldn't walk as quickly as I wanted to. I hadn't felt pain that morning but I must have knocked my knee again. Once the shock and excitement had worn off the pain set in. Of course it didn't help that I'd been stuck in that cabin all day with little more to do than wander around the table and lounge on the couch. My knee was stiff and tired and I had to fight to hide my winces of pain as I approached the table. James was watching me closely and I had no doubt he was trying to acertain if I was in pain.

I decidedly didn't meet his eye until all three of us were sitting at the long dining table that took up a rather large proportion of his cabin. Instead of sitting quietly and waiting for someone else to bring up what had happened though, I got right to it. "I suppose the whole ship is talking of what happened this morning?" I eased into the conversation gently.

"I should hope not Miss," Gillette replied. "As the Commodore has requested that they do not."

James stifferened. "Talk encourages thought."

I gazed at him for a few seconds as I tried to make him out. "You've decided not to take the sword back to London then?"

James turned to me sharply. "I believe Miss O'Connell I decided that some time ago. I think perhaps it was a certain realisation that occurred in my mind that led to such a consideration."

I swallowed thickly and my eyes flitted briefly to Gillette but he appeared to be none the wiser of my secret. I glanced back at James who gave me the minutest shake of the head in answer. So Gillette had over the course of the day been informed of the sword, but not of any other secrets.

"What do we do now then?" I asked them both.

"We figure out what that sword is Miss, and what it can do." Gillette seemed excited by such a prospect, whereas James appeared more melancholy.

"There are many swords that have been spoken of throughout time..." James began. "There are many that do not entirely fit what we have found but there are some that cannot be discounted. It carries certain unexplained properties that make it all the more valuable."

"I think your first plan to take it to an expert in a history of warfare and weaponry would be best," I mused.

"That still poses some risk," James countered. "People can be bought Miss O'Connell."

"Then you've a brig full of pirates that I dare say know enough about superstition to help."

Gillette shook his head. "Now Miss, you know fine well that Sparrow would have the Commodore believing that sword to be Excalibur as some sort of mean trick."

I watched out of the corner of my eye as James's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh God," I sighed. "Commodore please don't tell me you're actually thinking of that!" James simply gazed at me. "Well then what am I, the lady of the lake?" I laughed as James's eyes widened even further and he turned to gaze at the sword. "I am not the lady of the lake and that sword is not Excalibur!"

"Oh and you would know, would you?" asked Gillette with a grin.

I nodded slowly. "Well isn't Excalibur supposed to be about as long as I am tall. Also, the Greek engravings don't fit. You both seem to have forgotten that fact." A beat passed where I wondered if I should tell them my own theory but I thought better of it. I wanted to see if James would work it out on his own. "That sword is hammered differently as well. It's not your typical long sword from the British Isles is it? Take a look at that sickle protruding from the side. It's odd, very odd."

I sat back in my chair to let them both digest what I had said. Eventually we all lapsed into an easy silence that eventually drew us to eat. I stayed quiet long after the food was gone and listened to the sounds of the ship quieting down for the night in between the mumbled words of James and his Lieutenant. I did ponder my situation as I sat in silence. I was sitting at a table that held mutual respect in all forms. I'd not considered that would ever come to pass the day that I boarded The Surgence. How the tables had turned. I had never really been a friend to Jack Sparrow but I suppose I must have been an ally of sorts until James and I struck up our friendship if that's what it was. When the pirates heard that I was now having dinner with James and his officers, they would definitely shun me. It baffled me, the sea. It had led me down so many different paths in the six years I'd sailed it and I was still somehow desperate for more. I slowly turned to gaze out of the long windows at the back of the cabin expecting to see nothing much except the reflection of the ship's lamps in the water below. The light I did see had me glancing towards the top of the window though.

The stars were brighter than I'd seen them from any ship's window before. I had a hankering to venture out onto deck and see them but I tried to resist. I couldn't stop myself though from leaving the table to amble towards the window. I knew just what I was looking at and it made me feel suddenly guilty that I had not told James the truth about what I knew of the sword. Of course I knew I could not tell him I'd had dreams about it before I ever saw it but if he was hankering for me to trust him and prepared to keep my secret and trying to help me, didn't he deserve to know as much of the truth as I could rightly tell him without finding myself in an asylum?

There was something about the night sky outside that window that had captured me so completely that I didn't even realise all conversation had died. I wanted to press my face against the glass to look more closely at the constellation above me but I didn't quite know how James would take that. I was lost in my daze until I felt movement beside me. When I turned my head James was standing at my side, his spyglass held out towards me.

I took hold of it, but didn't pull it out of his grip. We had another one of those moments were our eyes met as if they'd been seeking each other for all of time for comfort and stability and hope and God knows what else.

"Can't you see what it is?" I whispered to him quietly as I nodded towards the window. His perplexed expression told me I was going to have to voice it all. "I think you need only look to the stars to find your answer Commodore."

The three of us traipsed up onto deck and right up to the poop deck to look out at the sky. I raised the spyglass to my eye and for a few minutes I gazed. I wordlessly handed the instrument to James then, and waited for his moment of realisation.

"The chained woman."

He turned to look at me then and I was still sure I saw some confusion in his eyes. "Oh come on," I all but growled. "You're the one with the classical education!"

"Perseus and Andromeda," Gillette supplied from my other side. I nodded at him.

"Explain it to me," James said as he turned his head towards me and and handed the spyglass to Gillette. "You have a theory. Do not keep it from me."

"Perseus cut off the head of the gorgon Medusa with a sword. He also saved Andromeda from a sea monster with a sword. A sword that killed sea monsters. You saw what happened to my dagger today did you not? That sword in your cabin isn't just solid gold Commodore. It's something else entirely."

"Wasn't that more to do with the fact that Perseus was a god than anything else?" James asked.

I shrugged. "Maybe. What if that sword belonged to a god though? Could it not then kill a sea monster? Could it not hold within it some kind of property the like of which this world has not seen before? Is all of that not entirely possible after what we encountered in the cave and what we saw this morning? I was the one that sea monster was going to drag down to the depths Commodore, so my mind is entirely made up!"

"Then what do you propose I do with the sword then Miss O'Connell?" James asked as Gillette moved away from them to shout up an order to the man in the crows nest.

I shrugged. "Keep it. Seems as good a solution as any. Don't tell me you didn't feel the living and breathing soul of that sword when you held it Commodore."

"You have felt that too?"

I nodded. "I felt it when I picked first picked it up in that cave."

I was aware of James turning sharply towards me then. "I felt it then too. You threw it to the side and it somehow made it's way into my outstretched hand. It was hot to the touch when I caught it."

"You see, it's not all nonesense!" I grinned at him as we both turned back towards the steps that led to the quarterdeck.

"Commodore Sir, I shall take the helm tonight as you requested." Lieutenant Gillette handed James his spyglass back before turning towards the ship's wheel. I was just about to turn towards the steps when something on the map table caught my eye. I lifted the map case from the table and let the smooth leather slide between my hands. I'd forgotten all about it. I tuned to glance at James who smiled at me.

"Shall we peruse the contents over a glass of whiskey in my cabin Miss O'Connell?"

* * *

 ** _In the next chapter, James keeps a promise and we may be about to meet Patrick O'Malley!_**


	25. Chapter Twenty Five - Patrick O'Malley

_**Thank you so much to the guests and Icar372 for the reviews! I love hearing what you think of the chapters!**_

 _ **Guest; I'm glad that image of James looking quite well came through. I think it's about time Fiona struggles not to find him attractive when all is considered. Consider your curiosity answered because Patrick O'Malley shall be making an appearance at the end of this chapter and may or may not stick around for a few more!**_

 _ **Icar372; I think the necklace was always a sort of lynch pin that would draw them both together eventually but it has to be slowly. There's so much for them both to deal with that I thought it made more sense for it to take a little time. It feels more believable to me when writing it and hopefully to anyone reading it also! I think they are growing closer in quite a nice way if I do say so myself! I'm glad that action sequence worked out okay. I was worried I wouldn't properly write what I had in my head! There's going to be a little drip feed of myth and legend here and there but not an overpowering amount just yet. I think The beginning of this relationship is about the real people ultimately and I wanted to bring that across before I start adding too much myth. It will arrive eventually but for reasons that will be revealed perhaps in the sequal (if I don't choose to just carry on under this story name there will definitely be a sequel, haven'y worked out which way to do it yet!) but I don't want to reveal all of that just yet. All of the info on myths I've found mostly from the internet and from previous things I've read or watched and taken the notion to look up. As well as most of the Irish folklore just being something I've known about since I was younger. For a book on Irish mythology I think I can make a suggestion or two, Early Irish Myths and Sagas (Penguin Classics) can be found on amazon and also the Penguin Classics Irish Poetry is a good shout just to get a feel for some of the old ballads and things like that.**_

 _ **The clue's in the name of this chapter. We're finally meeting Patrick O'Malley and Fiona's got a rather unwilling appointment with a doctor!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty Five - Patrick O'Malley**_

My whiskey glass hit the surface of James's desk with a thud and I backed away, my back eventually coming up against the panelled wall of his cabin. "That's not possible!"

He was staring at me curiously as his hands left the thick paper on which the chart had been printed to let it unfurl all by itself. Even by the roughened edges of the paper I had known the chart before James had properly removed it from the case. It was a chart I had seen before, not in real life but in my dreams. How was it possible that something that had never before been real was before us now.

"Sorry," James questioned. "But what's not possible?"

I was shaking my head in disbelief, hardly daring to really believe that a map I'd let guide me even though I'd only ever seen it in my mind was before me in it's true form. I glanced up at James, meeting his eyes as they stared back into my own. I wanted to tell him the whole truth. I had such an urge to in that moment, but I knew I could not. It was not that I did not trust him. I had no doubt in my mind that he would not have doubted my belief. He would likely think I was mad though. He'd feel sorry for me; some mad Irish chit with a head filled with nonsense and superstition. He'd loose all respect for me and for my sensibility.

"I...I've seen that chart before," was all I said.

James glanced down at the chart and then back up at me, standing on the other side of the cabin. I knew what he was thinking. How could I tell? That was the gift of my mind I suppose. I was able to recall every chart I'd ever seen whether in dream or reality. I did not need to look so very closely to know what it was.

"Then it belonged to Captain O'Malley?"

I was silent for a few seconds, his question not registering immediately. When I did realise what he'd said I made my feet move. I approached his desk again slowly, forcing myself to look down at the chart even though I knew what I would see there. James was running his hands lightly across the chart, his fingers coming to rest lightly just over the islands where we had discovered the caves. I sensed he was still waiting for my answer but I did not know which one to give him. I did not want to lie to him.

I shrugged. "Mick always marked his charts. If it's his there'd be a mark in one of the corners on the underside."

James flipped the chart over without hesitation and I had to hold in my gasp of surprise. Sure enough, in the left hand corner was Mick's signature. I reached forward on impulse and ran my fingers along the indent that the quill and ink had made to the parchment. I knew it was his as soon as I touched it. There was no trick there. Mick had touched that parchment. The chart was his. The date below his signature was the peculiar thing. In my mind I was trying to count back all of the winters and summers I'd sailed with Mick because I was sure that the date meant something. Wasn't it the summer I'd met him? Had Mick signed that chart just weeks before he'd met me; and yet I'd never seen it aboard his ship myself. I'd seen similar but not that very one before me. The first time I had seen it was in my dreams.

"How on earth...?" I mumbled softly as I let my fingers trace the signature again. "How on earth did this end up in that cave?" I asked James softly. "Mick had never been there."

James took a seat in his chair and took a swig of whiskey from his own glass. "You forget Miss O'Connell, that we think that some persons as yet unknown may have removed all of the charts and maps from The Grace. It might just be possible that this chart was one of them. I do agree that this is all a strange occurrence. It appears there is something odd at work here."

"I thought you didn't believe in superstition?" I asked with a soft laugh.

"I do not, as a rule indulge in such frivolous thought when facts are readily at hand. This is indeed a strange puzzle though." James sighed heavily. "It is almost as if we were destined to find that cave."

That was the day I think, that I'd suddenly realised he might not be as impenetrable as I thought. Fate appeared to have bound us together in some odd way, and I was resigned to that fact. James on the other hand was entirely ignorant of the dreams I'd been having. He'd not been forced to face up to the fact that fate was pushing us together in every which way possible. The cave and that Kelpie on deck that morning had been the first confrontation James had experienced with the world of magic and myth. It would take time for his mind to adjust, for him to openly accept these things as truth. I'd grown up with such tales and the Irish were such a superstitious bunch that it wasn't really a shock to me. Was I going to have to be his guide in such matters?

I had the strangest sensation then of hope blossoming somewhere within my chest. He was not immune to such thoughts any more, which meant he was not so alien to me any more. We were closer than ever before and yet I was resigned to leaving him at my earliest opportunity. I did not quite know back then why I felt as if I'd something to be glad for. I was to leave him and likely never see him again. Strangely I felt okay with it. I think now I know I was on the fringes of emotions that I'd never felt before. To leave him at that point was a good thing. I could think of him fondly and without pain or suffering. I'd not mind the fact that I'd not see him again. Any longer, and I think my heart would have been lost. I did not know my own heart then of course. It would be some time yet before I would, and it would come at a cost.

I suppose I'd not given much consideration to the affects of being incarcerated within the brig of a ship for months on end. I'd honestly lost track of just how long it had been but I knew that from my own point of view the weeks had bled into one another. I stood on deck as the pirates were finally led up from the brig. Their legs were weak from lack of exercise and they turned their faces away from the sun to squint into the other direction. There was no helping the fact they moved slowly despite James's crew trying to hurry them along. I felt helpless in those moments. There was no way for me to do anything to stop what was about to happen to people that I had sailed with. I did not hate any of them. In fact, I liked quite a few of them. Yes, they were pirates but I've never really considered that the world is split into good and bad people. Many of them had been labelled a pirate when they still had so much good inside of them.

I'd been able to save Mai and Anamaria who had been released from the brig first and were now stood along the quayside watching the procession of pirates with apprehension. James had left the ship as soon as we had docked to go in search of his counterpart in the port. The pirates were to face their charges within a few days and hang within the port in Rio. I'd known there was no point in arguing with James's decision. To relinquish two prisoners had cost his conscience greatly and I knew he was not about to sully his reputation any further. Despite the fact I had managed to save the lives of two women, I still felt an immeasurable amount of guilt.

Despite the nauseous sensation growing within the pit of my stomach, I still knew that all hope was not lost. This is Jack Sparrow we are speaking of, after all. Granted, there wasn't far for him to go if he escaped the brig whilst we were at sea unless he and his crew managed to gain control of the ship. That was something I think they just might have been able to accomplish if they had put their minds to it. They hadn't though, and I believed they were biding their time. It would be much easier to escape a fort than a ship at sea.

Jack Sparrow was the last to be led up from below decks. I knew with one glance at him that Mr. Hawkins must have supplied the pirate with alcohol. It was the swing of his hips as he walked, the way his arms were held aloft even in their shackles. He alone did not appear inhibited by his long stay in the brig and greeted the sun with amusement. Lieutenant Thompson gave him a sharp shove in the small of the back as he stopped to admire the view beyond the ship. He lurched as if he had tripped then and stumbled. It took only a second for me to realise that such a fall was in fact posed as was everything else that Sparrow did.

His stumble brought him within an arms length of me and he managed to snatch hold of my necklace just before lieutenant Thompson grabbed onto his shackles. "That's a pretty little trinket Miss. Be a shame if you were to loose it..."

His eyes were no longer drunkenly appraising the view but almost cutting into my own with an intensity so grave that I took a step back suddenly, pulling my necklace out of his grip. I stepped back into a hard and stable chest and immediately tried to shirk away, but James's hands came up to clasp my forearms and hold me in place. There must have been a look that passed between him and Sparrow then although I could not tell you the intensity of it. My mind was suddenly preoccupied with my proximity to James. Sparrow was yanked away by his shackles and was led out onto a gangplank and down onto the quay. James's hands remained firmly upon my arms until Sparrow was led away with the others.

When he finally released me I let my mind wonder what Sparrow's comment really meant. I was sure he meant to relay some kind of message to me but I was at a loss as to what it might be. How was it that he could be so concerned about me loosing a necklace? Why had those men tried to take it from me in Tortuga and why was James so transfixed by it? I was beginning to think I needed to remove it from around my neck and bury it somewhere so that no one would ever know it was there.

I turned back to watch Mai and Anamaria who did not look as lost as I expected them too. Granted, Anamaria was more than capable of handling herself but Mai had been thrust into all of this without any say. Now she was in an unfamiliar place with hardly any friends. She should have appeared more fearful, I thought. I recalled all too well the first time Mick had docked in an exotic port and I'd found myself separated from him and the rest of the crew. I'd been in near hysterics by the time I finally managed to find my way back to The Grace. It was a mark of how quickly I'd become attached to them all, Mick in particular. In the years since I had changed though, so much so that I relished the time alone to trawl through the market stalls and perhaps use my well earned money to buy myself something new. That had felt like real and true freedom to me when I considered the life I'd have had if I'd stayed in London with my uncle.

It was the same sense of freedom that was beginning to creep over me as I stood on the deck of a ship that at one time I thought I'd never leave alive. Now though, I knew I had a decision to make. As much as I did not want to leave the apparent safety of James's protection aboard The Surgence, the right thing to do was go my own way. The crew were all disembarking to explore the port as James was not setting sail again until the next day. My purse of gold coins in my pocket clinked together as I began to move, following the crew down onto the crowded quay below. I could find somewhere to stay for a day or two until I worked out what it was that I wanted to do with the time and money that I had.

"Miss O'Connell, might you care to accompany me?" James had appeared at my side as I watched the crowds milling about. "You will recall the friend that I spoke to you of, the surgeon?"

I no more wanted to go to the doctor than I wanted to attempt to swim all the way back to Ireland. I had no way to refuse James though when I saw the determination even in the way he held himself. He was not planning to take no for an answer. I supposed back then that he thought that kind of treatment was how all women should be treated. He'd been brought up believing that all women must have a man make their decisions for them because they were incapable of doing so themselves. He also considered himself a gentleman who was obliged to offer me as much aid as he could. My decision was made for me as he strode ahead then, glancing back at me once to ensure that I was going to follow him.

He led me away from the boisterous market and the colourful sights and sounds and down the other side of the quay where quieter shops and inns boasted a more peaceful way of life than would be expected of such a port. James stopped just short of a shop that appeared dedicated to lace and ribbons. I'd never really been fond of such frivolous adornments but I could readily imagine James entering the little shop as the bell over the door tinkled to pick out ribbons and lace for a loved one. It was not the shop that appeared to interest him though but the open door to the side that led to a narrow staircase.

Normally I think he'd have been the type to let me enter first, but I think he knew how apprehensive I was and so he ventured inside to climb the steps towards the first floor. I followed meekly, a shiver running down my spine as I recalled all of the doctors I'd come into contact with over the last six years. I'd known myself to be in some form of danger from the moment I'd set eyes on most of them to be honest. There were a few that gave the impression of being reputable at first which was almost worse. They could manage to get you into a compromised position before they pounced on you. James knocked lightly and instead of waiting for a response he opened the door before him and stepped into a room.

"Ah, James! I didn't expect you to return so soon."

The voice was polite and jovial, sounding not unlike James's officers aboard The Surgence. That in itself did not reassure me much. I stepped into the room after James, suddenly sure that I needed to remain close to him. I let the door close behind me and turned to face a light and airy room that was clean and tidy. There was a couch in the middle of the room and in the corner stood a desk littered with parchment and bandages. The windows were opened wide to let the sea air float into the room as it pleased and the pale wallpaper that was not so much in fashion as the dark designs of late made the room somehow more welcoming. From behind the desk approached a man then that would not have looked out of place at all aboard James's ship. The gentle easiness of his expression spoke of a man no longer in service but his stature and posture told me he had not long left it. Well dressed in a starch white shirt and cravat with a red waistcoat, only his coat was absent and who could forgive him that given the climate? His thin strawberry blonde hair was tied back by a black ribbon at the nape of his neck and a light stubble of the same hue graced his chin. He looked professional and trustworthy of course, but I'd been fooled by all of that before. The only reassurance I had was that James was still in the room with us. Surely someone who was a friend to James could not behave so very badly when in his presence. James reached forward to shake the mans hand and gestured behind him.

"Digby, this is the lady I spoke of earlier this morning, Miss O'Connell."

Digby shook my own hand in the same way he had shaken James's. His hands were surprisingly soft given that he had sailed with the navy. "Miss O'Connell, pleased to meet you. James says you have an injury that requires attention; your knee I believe? Have you treated it with anything that a doctor has supplied you with before?"

I shook my head as I tried to appear pleasant and not let my apprehension show on my face. "No I've not. I've not stayed around long enough for them to prescribe anything to be honest."

If I'd expected judgement or a rebuttal I did not get one. He simply nodded slowly. "Right, why don't you take a seat on that couch over there Miss and place that coverlet around you. Should I fetch one of the ladies from the shop below to act as chaperone and James can step outside; or are you happy for him to stay?"

As much as I was appreciating the professionalism, I had no desire of any more strangers than necessary having to glimpse the damage to my knee. "No...he can stay." I sat down onto the couch and swung my legs up onto it. There was a thick blanket draped over the back of the couch and I followed my instructions in placing it over my legs. I realised immediately it's usefulness for although I'd have to pull up the hem of my skirt on one side to expose my bad knee, the blanket over my other leg weighed down my skirt enough that it would not ride up too much. James had moved towards Digby's desk and was flicking through some books. Digby himself crouched before me then to take in the sight of my mangled knee.

"How is your range of movement? I assume that as you walked here you do not have so much trouble with it?"

I nodded. "It's no trouble really. It locks sometimes and I find it harder to manouver if i've been in one position too long."

He glanced up at me then as if he did not really believe me. "Only sometimes?" he asked rhetorically. He held out his hand towards me then. "May I?" I nodded slowly even though I could feel the hackles on the back of my neck rising. I kept telling myself that James was in the room and that nothing untoward could come to pass whilst he was my chaperone. Digby's soft hands gently pressed either side of my knee as if he were feeling for the bone beneath flesh.

His hand moved then to cup the back of my knee. "Can you bend your knee slowly for me miss?"

I followed his instruction, letting his hand guide my movement. I managed to keep my grimace of pain hidden even as my knee jarred slightly and I realised I could bend it no more. "I don't think I can manage further," I told him.

"That's quite alright," he said with a smile. "And stretch your leg out again. You never use a wrapped bandage for any support?"

My answer came out as a hiss of pain that escaped through my teeth as I tried to return my leg to it's stretched out formation. It locked halfway and I tried not to flinch at the pain. I felt James's gaze land on me. I know Digby felt how sharply my knee locked though for he glanced up at my face to gauge how much pain I was in.

"Well," Digby began as he sat back on his legs, his hands leaving my knee. "I think Miss you've been in the right kind of environment for such an injury in that you've been kept moving as much as possible. I think the more stationary you are the worse the pain shall be. In essence I can recommend some salves that you might apply for the pain and perhaps a poultice if it is very bad. Some flour and bran and healing herbs; lavender and the like. In this region there is also something lately used by native Americans called pumpkin which may be mashed and used in a poultice. Or perhaps something more common from your home country might be a root vegetable such as turnip. On the whole I think the healing herbs should suffice though if these cannot be sourced.

I nodded my understanding even though I was not sure I'd be spending so much time applying things to an injury I'd lived with for eight years. "That goes for the injury to the structure of your knee itself Miss, but the scaring is not something I feel I can help with. It appears too deep. Might I ask how you got this injury?"

As soon as he'd mentioned scars I'd been ready for the question and although he had proven himself professional and trustworthy in terms of medical care I was adamant I was not spilling all of my secrets to a complete stranger. "I fell," I said quickly. "It was a long time ago though. There was glass where I fell so that's what caused the scars."

His sapphire blue eyes were like James's in a way, I realised as they stared straight into mine. He knew I had secrets that I did not wish to uncover, that much was clear. It was as if he could read my mind. I tried to force all of my thoughts about that night eight years ago to the back of my mind. Incredibly, he came to the conclusion I most feared.

"Then you fell from a window Miss?" James, who had returned his attention to the books on the desk glanced up sharply. "A simple fall from a garden wall or of little height would not have caused such damage to your knee. Your injury is concurrent with a fall from a height of at least one storey.

For a few seconds there was silence in the room. They were both waiting to see what I would say, but I could think of no answer to cover up what Digby had discovered. I shifted uncomfortably as his eyes bore into mine for a few seconds longer before he finally stood to his full height again. James moved as Digby rounded his desk again and brought out some phials of what appeared to be a kind of ointment. I pulled the blanket off my legs and pulled my skirt back down over my knee. I stood again, hiding the wince of pain and moved back into the room, determined he would get no more information out of me.

James threw me one shrewd glance as I stuffed my hand in my pocket to fetch the purse of coins. Digby was scribbling something down on a slip of parchment which he then presented to me with the phials. "Miss this is what you'll need to ask for if you require more of the salve. It's a common concoction for joint pain but nonetheless you'll have a record of it just in case."

I thanked him as I took the slip of parchment into my hands and glanced down the small list of ingredients that served as a joint rub. Before I could place it in my pocket and retrieve my purse James presented five large gold coins to his friend, who held up his hands as if reluctant to accept payment.

I held my purse of coins out in my hand, a sense of frustration building within me "I can-"

James shot me a look that brokered no argument and I slipped the purse back into my pocket. His friend slid back in his chair a little as if he wanted to put space between himself and the coins. "James, a favour is favour-"

"Yes but even so..." James set the coins down upon Digby's desk, all stacked together in a tower. his doctor friend sighed and shook his head lightly. He stood then and pulled a coat off the back of his chair. "Are you walking back down towards the quay. I'll walk with you. I've some business there in that direction."

I lead the way back out onto the street again and listened to the quiet conversation of the two men. James talked of his heading and Digby of which navy ships he'd seen in port recently. There was a familiarity between them that served to tell me they had been friends at one time. Certainly, the use of their christian names alluded to the fact they were well acquainted. Clearly, Digby had entirely retired from the navy altogether or I could not imagine James allowing his friend to call him by his christian name. At length we reached the market again and the colours made me wish I had a much larger purse of coins with me. There was so much to admire that for a few minutes I did not notice Mai standing quietly nearby, looking utterly lost. It seemed James had noticed her first for as soon as I saw her I felt his eyes upon me. I turned to meet his gaze but I did not need to ask a question. He inclined his head in a slight nod that told me I was free to do as I pleased.

James touched my shoulder lightly to turn me in the direction of a street that led away from the market. He pointed to it with his other hand. "At the end of that street Miss O'Connell is a church. There is a coaching inn nearby it where I shall be staying."

His sentence was left hanging in the air and I nodded my understanding. He was not implying that I should also take rooms at that inn but I suspected there would be one laid on for me if I did. His advice smacked more of him telling me where he was should I need him. I was glad he had not tried to direct me with street names as Rio was not a port I knew well at all.

"Alright," I answered gently. I turned to say my goodbyes to Digby, who was watching our communications avidly. "Thankin' you kindly for your help doctor."

"Not at all Miss. A pleasure to meet you."

"Commodore," I said lightly as I threw him a small smile and I walked away from them to catch up with Mai. I so wanted to look back at them as I walked but something told me I should not. I'm glad I had such a notion about me, for they were both watching me walk away.

As soon as I was deemed far enough away not to hear them, Digby said "Well there's a little peach ripe for the plucking."

James turned on his friend, his eyebrows raised in indignation. He says indignation but how can I really be sure? I was not there and so I only have his account. Digby's may be different. "I'm glad you did not say so in front of her," James replied. "I gather that she has not had the greatest of experiences with doctors in the past."

"Yes she seemed a rather frightened little bird," his friend agreed swiftly. "A smart one though. When you said that she was sailing a merchant ship I expected someone a bit more hard hearted, I must admit. In fact it's as if she only left home yesterday. James are you quite sure she's in no trouble?"

"Not the kind that you're thinking of Digby."

The doctor shrugged. "Her injury James, was not caused by falling onto glass. She fell from a window as I deduced, but the scarring on her knee and the surrounding skin easily tells me she fell with the glass. It scraped her skin before she even made contact with the ground. She fell from a window as it broke James. The glass cut her as she fell."

James began to walk a little as a thoughtful expression crossed his face, forcing his friend to walk along with him. "Do not ask me for her story Digby for I do not know it. I shall not force it from her. Suffice it to say that I know what she runs from. I am shocked to hear that such a drastic measure as jumping from a window was taken in her flight but when I consider what she was running from and dread to think of why, I can understand all of it readily. She is an enigma. Most of what I know of her has been guess work. She's an accomplished sailor though. Physically strong and willing to listen to reason on some occasions. She rarely needs instruction if she helps out on deck. She's been of aid to me, to us all. She will leave us soon I think though. For all of her protestations and her bravado you were right, she is a frightened little bird who refuses to be caged; even if that cage were only to protect her at all costs."

After a moment of silence James turned to glance towards Digby, only to find his friend openly staring at him. "You like her James?"

James sighed heavily. "Digby the girl has had a hard life and yet she is strong and defiant. She's got quite the mouth on her too. I simply admire her courage and her self-respect. As I said, she's been of a help to me. I wish I could go into more details my friend, but I will tell you all some day. Perhaps upon my return journey to England I will visit you."

Digby was shaking his head. "You know James, she sounds remarkably like a woman you were once fond of, or perhaps you still are? Is that the issue? She reminds you of Miss Swann?"

James tried to push the sudden surge of anger and grief that washed over him away. "It is Mrs. Turner now Digby. She is married...to the blacksmith who also ran with pirates."

Digby gasped slightly before he laughed loudly. "Good God James, I bet all of that only makes you admire your sweet Elizabeth even more! Is that what it is with the Irish girl then, you feel protective of her because she reminds you of that love?"

"Digby if that is how you wish to view it my friend, then there is nought I can do to stop you. More than anything I find that my crass and petulant nature of late has harmed more than it has healed. I have rediscovered my belief for acts of kindness."

"An act of kindness?" Digby exclaimed. "Yes James I've heard it called many things but never that!"

Mai and I filtered through the stalls in the market and admired the colours and the sounds of everything around us. There was music being made somewhere nearby that we heard strains of between the volley of voices and the colourful silks made the golden coins in my purse almost burn through my pocket material against my leg. There was no way for us to get close enough to look at anything properly though. I found a stall selling women's clothing and stopped to buy some things, knowing very well I'd have enough to buy myself most of what they had. I let Mai pick out some clothing for herself and a pair of shoes like my own before I bought a new silk shirt with a Chinese design embroidered into the collar. I swapped my flimsy shoes for another pair that was similar but with a stronger leather sole. Mai looked on in wonder as I paid for our parcels and we moved on, battling through the crowds. The aromas of the different foods wafted towards us and I pressed some coins into Mai's hand and told her to fetch something to eat for herself. I was still trying to shake my nerves from before so food appeared more of an evil to me at that moment. Very quickly I lost Mai again in the crowds. I tried to find her for a long time before I gave up and decided to venture towards the one place in the port that I recalled vividly. As I pushed open the door to Flynn's I caught sight of Molly behind the bar. She dropped the glass she was holding when she saw me.

"Christ Fiona I thought you were all dead? Is Mick with you then?"

Molly grabbed a brush and began to try and sweep the broken shards of glass under the bar but her hands were shaking too much to old the handle steady. I shook my head. "I'm the only one left Molly. They're all gone."

I slid onto a stool at the bar and she poured us both a glass of whiskey. Her hand shook as she lifted her glass to meet mine in the air and we both drank greedily. That taste of home hit the back of my throat like no other whiskey could. "So I think I can guess what you've come here for Fiona."

"Patrick," I nodded. "Have you seen him lately?"

Molly smiled knowingly. "Of course I saw him. It was a few days ago mind, and I couldn't tell you where he's staying 'cause I won't have him here. You should head back to the Quay. I'll expect he'll be tinkering with that ship. Why I don't know! Strikes as bad luck to me!"

"Ship? Patrick has a ship?"

"Don't you know?" I must have looked so confused that Molly took my perplexed expression for an answer. "Patrick found The Grace out at sea and sailed her into port. He's been making repairs to her these last two months. She's almost ready to sail again. I'd not step foot on her, not after what happened. Bad luck, so it is."

I was gobsmacked. That little thieving louse had taken Mick's ship from where it had washed up on those rocks and commandeered it for himself. That was Patrick all over, so I don't know why I was so surprised by his actions. Somewhere deep within me I guess I still held onto a little hope that he'd have more respect by his brother's memory. I glanced up as the door behind the bar opened and Molly's husband Declan walked out.

"Love, look who's here eh? Our Fiona, safe and well and alive! Can you believe it!"

Molly's delight contrasted finely with Declan's disdain and perhaps even a hint of fear. "Jaysus. Fiona?" Declan dragged a hand across his thick greying beard. "How's that possible eh?"

I shrugged, having no desire to find myself in a conversation with the man. Molly suddenly pointed a finger in the air. "We owed Mick money you know Fiona. I was going to give it to Patrick before he left. Well in truth I was going to give it to him in bits because he can't be trusted with a large amount at once, but I feel like you should be the one to get it. You meant a lot to Mick and I dare say he'd rather see it in your hands and put to good use than thrown away into the sea by his brother. Let me go and get it for you."

Molly scampered away, leaving through the door Declan had come through only a moment before. That was a mark of how honest Molly was. She needn't have mentioned the money and I'd have been none the wiser. It was a shame her husband didn't share the same trait. Declan glared at me across the bar. "You'll take the money and be on your way Fiona. You can't stay."

I snorted. "Tell me where Patrick is Declan, and I'll think about it."

Declan snarled as he leaned across the bar in an attempt to intimidate me. "Find him yourself. You've a nose for sniffing out trouble right enough so be on your way."

"What, and miss the chance to tell Molly the truth? Come on Declan! I'm no more interested in telling her than you are! She loves you, the poor fool! Molly wouldn't believe me if I told her!"

"Told me what?" Molly had appeared behind me from the back room with a coin purse in hand and was glaring between us. "What?"

I shook my head tiredly, not sure I'd the strength to fight Molly. She was a well built woman with strong arms. She might have had a kind smile but her right hook was far more powerful. "Molly I-"

"You'll tell me Fiona or so help me God..." Molly grabbed the collar of my shirt and spun me around on the stool. The packages in my lap fell to the floor and when I tried to stand she pushed me back down.

"Molly I don't take pleasure in telling you this! Your husband, last time I was here he had a fight with Mick. Do you remember?" Molly's incredulous eyes gave me cause to falter. "Well...M...he and Mick were arguing over me. You see you won't remember this bit as you were asleep but during that night that all your rooms were full and you let us lot sleep down here in the bar...Declan came downstairs again. He tried it on with me Molly. That's what your husband did. He'd done it before and I knew if I came back he'd do it again. Mick clamped him over the head with a bottle of whiskey and sent him to bed again. That's what the argument was about the next day. Declan couldn't remember what he'd done, just that Mick had hit him. That's why we left in such a hurry."

"How dare you!" Molly snarled as she advanced towards me.

She didn't get the chance to hit me. Declan had rounded the bar and he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and dragged me off the stool and towards the door. "You're just a coward that can't even tell your wife the truth!" I screamed as my head bounced off the door jab. I landed in the dust of the street as Declan called me every name over the sun. My parcels followed me to land in the dust. Then Molly threw the coin purse at me.

"To think I thought I was doing you a good turn by mentioning the money. Christ! Mick would be ashamed of you! Little slag!"

A well aimed kick to my back sent me spralling into the middle of the street and a new voice joined the fray.

"Ah Molly, that waif doesn't look worth the trouble you're causing!"

My head jerked upwards as the voice registered with me and was met with the sight of a good looking man. Black curly hair and stubble framed the tanned features of a younger version of Mick. "Patrick?" I spat out.

"Mary mother of God..." Patrick breathed out as he caught sight of my face. "Fiona? Christ lass I thought you were dead!"

I managed to find my feet again and I wasted no time in punching Patrick straight in the face. The force of my hit wasn't strong enough to knock him over but he steadied himself again and held up his hands in surrender. I slapped him then.

"Thieving lousy good for nothin' shitebag!" I screamed. "Who the hell d'you think you are, stealing Mick's ship for yourself! Don't you realise that your own brother died on that ship! His whole crew did! Why on earth would you want to resurrect it? Why?"

Tears were flowing freely down my face as I stared into his shocked one. I began to pommel his chest with my fists because he'd grabbed my wrists to save me slapping him again. I began to sob harder as he tried to wrap his arms around me. "Fiona will you stop - calm down and we-"

"What Patrick? What can we do?" I snarled at him. "Talk? You're not one for talking if I recall correctly! You just use people!"

I lunged at him again but he caught me between his arms and held me tightly. I struggled for a few seconds but eventually my emotions won out. I'd not been held properly like that since Mick's death. I'd not cried on someone's shoulder who shared my grief. Patrick smelt as he always had done, of whiskey and tobacco and some heady mixture of wood and oil. I clung to him then as I wailed, not aware that Molly and Declan had bid a hasty retreat back inside to lock their doors. I'd never be welcome in Flynn's again, that I knew. Patrick moved then, as if my weight was a burden. He leaned against a wall and held me for what felt like an age.

* * *

 _ **So what are your first impressions of Patrick? We'll be seeing some more of him over the next few chapters too!**_  
 _ **What will James do with the information that his doctor friend has given him? Will he confront Fiona?**_

 _ **In the next chapter we'll see the second of three very important conversations between James and Fiona, and we'll finally get to learn a bit more about her story!**_


	26. Chapter Twenty Six - In the Name of a

_**Thank you to the guest and deleni12 for the reviews!**_

 _ **So we've finally come to the reveal of Fiona's story. I don't know why but as soon as I started writing this fic I knew I was going to keep her whole story back for a good while because as she's narrating, it feels only right she'd not bring it up right away. In this chapter she tells the reader and James what really made her leave home. Maybe I'm wrong but personally I think it fits that she tells him now. We also see some more of Patrick O'Malley!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty Six - In the Name of a Better Life**_

I sat in the seat that Patrick directed me to, paying little attention to my whereabouts until his shadow disappeared. I glanced up to catch sight of him at the bar. He'd dragged me willingly through the streets with him in my sorry state until he'd claimed he'd found somewhere quiet for us to talk. I wasn't feeling much like talking if I'm honest. The sight of Patrick had somehow brought things home again. I felt all the pain and grief keenly that I pushed down on a daily basis. The inn he'd brought me to did indeed seem quiet enough, and he'd placed me at a table in a little alcove out of the way of the other drinkers who were all lined up along the bar.

I watched the movement of Patrick's shoulders as he leaned against the bar and conversed with the woman there. A few moments later he returned to the table with ale and two glasses. "I know you're not fond of rum so..." He set the bottle down and moved towards the bar again and I frowned at him as he returned carrying two plates laden with food. I stared own at what looked like chicken and some bread all heavily marinaded in herbs and spices. Truly it did smell wonderful but I was struggling to locate my appetite.

"For God's sake Fiona just eat it will ya? You're half the size that you were last I saw you! Don't you eat any more?"

I threw him a glare and began to pick at the chicken. It was as full of flavour as I'd expected and I kept eating, suddenly not caring about my lack of appetite. "What are you, my mother?" I mumbled as Patrick poured the ale into the two glasses.

"You'd wish I was your mother Fiona," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Do you know, I can't believe you're sitting here in front of me right now! I thought you were all gone Fiona! I was cursing Mick in my head for leading a girl like you to her death! I was thinking he should have had more of a care for you!"

"Don't speak that way about him!" I cried indignantly. "Mick couldn't have looked after me any better, and you Patrick O'Malley are the biggest scoundrel I know! You've no right to say such things when we think of how little you cared for me!"

"Jaysus," he sighed heavily. "I don't want to argue with you lass. Eat your food and then we can talk but lets not argue. My last words to Mick and yourself were cold and unfeeling. I won't get to remedy that with my brother but I can do so with you."

He was right, of course. I didn't want to argue with him either. I hated him and was yet so glad to see him at the same time. I showed my compliance by clearing my plate as he did. I felt terrible afterwards though, for I'd not eaten a meal so large in such a long time. "How did you manage to get _The Grace_ into port then?" I asked softly as he drank deeply from his glass.

"Dragged her didn't I. Managed to call in a favour. I've not had a ship in months Fiona! I understand that you'd be angry with me because it's Mick's ship and it's disrespectful and it's bad luck but-"

"Can I sail with you?" I interrupted sharply.

He appeared shocked by my question. "Is that what you want Fiona? I can't imagine you'd ever want to share a ship with me again? Who are you sailing with now? Can't you find something better suited to yourself?"

We'd reached a sore point in the conversation and I braced myself for his reaction. "I've been on a navy ship for months Patrick. I can't sail with just anyone. It needs to be someone I know and trust. We're family after all, are we not? Mick was the closest thing to a father or a brother or friend I've had all these years. That makes you family too. Much as you're an arse I trust you not to throw me overboard at the first sign of trouble."

Patrick appeared to be struggling to get his words out. He was shooting fruitive glaces around the bar. "Why did you not lead with that lass?" he whispered across the table. "Are there navy men here in the port?"

"Well of course there are," I replied with a laugh at his discomfort. "We only docked this morning." I reached across the table and patted his hand in an attempt to stop him fretting. "Patrick relax. They're good men. I doubt they'd bring you any trouble unless you caused some yourself. So can I? Sail with you that is?"

He took another decidedly long swig of ale as he appeared to contemplate what he wanted to say next. "Did you see what happened Fiona? Did you see how Mick passed? I only ask because my friends and I had scoured that ship to try and find out what happened to you all but there was no answer."

I nodded grimly and stared down at my lap, not able to look into his eyes as I recounted the tale to him. Mick listened in absolute silence and for ages after I spoke he said nothing. I could see that for all of his bravado there was a love there for his brother. I knew he must be feeling the renewed grief again as I did. "Patrick I want to sail with you because we both loved Mick. I don't care about the past and you shouldn't either. I know you're worried about the navy thing but honestly I was well looked after. It's not right that I stay with them though. I'm not saying I'm going to sail with you forever because I might go home soon, but who else is there in this world for me to trust?"

"Of all the people I know I never thought you'd be the one wanting to go home," Patrick mused as he reached across the table and took my hand. "You must have it bad then. Look I'm not worried about the past Fiona, I'm just worried that you are. Whatever it was we were back then, we cannot be so again. I've only ever seen you as a friend lass. You can say whatever you like, but you used me just as much as I used you. It was a long time ago and we're older and wiser now."

I shook my head at him. "I was sixteen Patrick. I was just a child."

"A child who knew exactly what she wanted!" Patrick released my hand and sat back in his chair. "You wanted to piss off whoever it was at home who threw you out. What's a man to do when a good looking girl like you lays it on thick eh? It's not as if I knocked you about or anything is it? Yes we knocked boots for a week or two, but we both knew it wasn't going to last. If you've any visions of a repeat of that, then I can't take you aboard with me Fiona, for both our sakes."

"And you think I'd go near you again?" I cried in an attempt at humour. "I'm desperate Patrick. Dry land doesn't suit me. I can't stay on the navy ship. It wouldn't be right. I've no designs on you at all! Honestly my mind couldn't be further from all of those thoughts! I'd still be taking a risk though and you'd have to forget those notions you had of trying to sell me off to Tia Dalma the last time we sailed together. That can't happen again Patrick. That woman's not safe! So what do you say? Can I sail with you for a time? Please?"

Patrick sighed heavily. "Alright then, but you won't get to be as high and mighty as you were with Mick. No first mate station for you as that's taken by a friend of mine. You'll just be a reglar deck hand, a crew member. I'll let you have that cabin of yours back of course for your own safety but I can't watch you all the time Fiona. You'll have to help me out on that front. Don't give anyone the reason to mess with you."

I grinned at him, suddenly feeling the first surge of real hope I'd felt in weeks. "I'm grateful to you, really I am!"

He barked with laughter. "Don't be too grateful, I've no cook yet."

"Patrick O'Malley you are not shoving me out of the way in the galley!" I expected him to find my retort funny but Patrick was suddenly concerned with something over my shoulder. I turned and caught sight of some officers from _The Surgence_ milling around in the doorway. I'd unknowingly found myself in the very inn James had directed me to.

"I won't stay here and drink with that lot," Mick said thickly as he gathered up his hat and stood. "We're sailing tomorrow lass. If you're not at the docks by midday then I don't have time to wait for you."

I nodded my understanding as Patrick leaned towards me. He pressed a soft kiss to the side of my cheek then and took a few steps back. "What was that for?"

"In case I don't see you tomorrow Fiona."

He tipped his hat to me and was gone. I sat back in my seat and sighed. Patrick had sensed my apprehension, I knew. I was worried about sailing with him because of the past and the future, but I had no one else who I could think of trusting. There was also the thought of having to step back aboard _The Grace_ after what had happened. I didn't know if I'd the strength in me to sail aboard her again. Would it not cut me like a knife every morning when I emerged onto deck to look for Mick and find Patrick in his place? I knew that Patrick was up to his eyes in trouble but there was something about that; something about that mischief that felt freeing just as much as worrying.

My thoughts were cut short by a voice that flew over my head a as a shadow fell over the table. "So that was the elusive brother then?" My head jerked up as James sat down opposite me and set his bottle of port down on the table. How much of our conversation had be been privy to? I chastised myself for not realising that he was more than likely ensconced in one of the other booths listening to every word that Patrick and I said. "So you have settled to sail with him then Miss?"

"I think it will be good for us both," I replied. "I need to get back on my feet after what happened and Patrick could probably do with having a woman around who talks sense."

James offered a small smile as he poured himself a glass of port. "I shall not try to dissuade you Miss, but I would have you know that my offer still stands. I would sail you to whichever port you wished to disembark at. But of course, you would wish to sail with your friend."

"I appreciate the offer Commodore, I really do. I can't take it though. It hasn't really been right for me to be sailing with you for so long. Could you not find yourself in trouble for it?"

"Only if anyone ever found out who you are," James supplied thinly. "Speaking of which, I had something I wanted to ask you. I cannot make you answer my questions Miss, but I think I am entitled to ask them regardless. My doctor friend believes that your knee injury was sustained by a fall through a window which broke upon impact and the glass fell with you. I am trying and failing to fit all of that into what little I know of you. I would be obliged if you might tell me the circumstances that led to such a drastic flight."

I watched him for a moment to see if he might rethink asking such a question even though I knew he was deadly serious in desiring an answer. The strangest feeling was that although I knew I wasn't required to tell him and he would never force me to do so, I wanted to.

"To understand the context I would have to start further back than the night in question," I answered. "I think perhaps you'd not think very well of me unless I told you every detail. It's a long story Commodore."

"Do we not have time?" It was as if he wanted to be nowhere else in the world. Those keen emerald green eyes held such a curiosity about myself that I found it quite hard to resist telling him everything. I'd never really found myself in that position, with someone so poised and ready to hear what I had to say. Mick had not even been so keen to know my story. Mick had not really asked. I suppose he wanted me to feel ready to tell him on my own without being pushed. That's the thing about me though, sometimes I require a push. I never think that opening up about myself will be of benefit to me at all so I normally bottle things up. I always think people would rather not know. I think that's the nature of the sea though. Everyone you meet at sea has a tale whether they tell it or not. James had been so good as to keep my secret to himself though for all of those weeks. He had not even made me aware that he knew. He had saved my life again, so perhaps he was entitled to know the truth when he had promised to readily to help me.

"I don't know if I told you that my father was a lawyer," I began.

"You did not," James replied.

"Well he was. His family did not have much in the way of money and so cousins from England came calling when they could not have a child of their own. Thus the Lefroy's first son Malcolm was sent to England to console the woman who so longed to be a mother. It was all done in the name of a better life, but I'm not sure who had the better one, my uncle or my father. My father met my mother and settled down. He would often work for the local earl and that gave him a bit of social standing as it were. It didn't go to his head though. He always kept that head down and was always working. I think that's what killed him in the end. After some time had passed my mother received a letter from my uncle calling in a repayment of the loan he had given my father when he first went into the law. Of course there was no way for us to pay back such an amount. My mother tried so hard to think of something, and it appeared that my uncle was trying to be kind and appreciated the circumstances.

"He then asked my mother if she could manage without me for a few months. If so, I was to go to London so that I might learn a few things. In my mind I thought I was to be trained up for a marriage to someone else. I thought my uncle would have in mind that he might reap the benefits of such a marriage. I didn't want to go but my mother readily agreed. She thought she was sending me off to a better life. I had no choice but to go when I saw how dire things were. We could barely afford to eat. So, off I went. As soon as I met my uncle I knew I didn't like the man. Those beady little eyes were upon me all of the day. I was bought new clothes and hats and shoes and stuffed into them all like some doll. I was never consulted on the matter. I'm not a frills and lace type of girl. What was the point in it all, I thought; when I'd be going back to Ireland in a few month's time. There would be no such place for expensive things when I was home again.

"Within weeks Things had changed within the agreement. My uncle had written to my mother without my knowledge and told her he would forget the loan repayment altogether if she gave permission for me to marry him." I stopped and sucked in a breath. "Telling this part makes me feel foolish. How many girls my age have been married off to a man old enough to be their grandfather? Most of those girls had money too, and I was just some country girl. I had nothing and there I was sneering at the opportunity to rise infinitely in station. It was the last thing in the world I wanted though. I just wanted to go home. I tried to make sure I was always around servants, and persuaded a maid to stay in the room with me whilst I slept. I was scared of what might happen. We've all come across creepy old men before who can't help themselves. Back in Ireland they are two a penny but I could hit them on the mouth and everyone would just fall about laughing. The creep would learn to keep his distance after a smack and that would be that. In London though I knew that kind of behaviour was not going to go down well. If I wasn't careful I could end up locked away just for defending myself. I didn't really have anyone to talk to apart from the maids as I was not allowed out until I could be properly schooled.

"One of the maids found out my uncle had already arranged and planned a wedding for us. He had even sourced a dress for me. That spurned me into action and I knew I had to get away some how. I wasn't marrying the man who followed my every step, leering over my shoulder. The night that I made my escape, I was not prepared. I had been considering so many options but in the end my uncle left me with no choice. He'd been out at a party that night and had decided in his drunken stupor that he was not going to wait until we were married in church. He burst into my room before the staff could stop him and tried to force himself upon me.

I was trying to look at anywhere but James's face, for although he was listening quietly I was sure I would see disdain there. "I fought him like a wild cat and I got in a fair few good punches but you've met him so you know he's a large man. He was too strong for me to get away from. When I managed to finally break free and reach the landing I was frightened to take the stairs at a run. I knew he would come lumbering after me and that he might even throw me down the stairs or over a banister. Then I really wouldn't be able to get away. All of the frustration at being locked in that house for weeks on end had taken such a toll and I just wanted to be out of there as quickly as possible. He came at me fiercely and caught hold of my hair. He was yanking me about with it when I grew worried he would through me through the window. He was so drunk and angry that I thought anything was possible. That was when I realised perhaps I should let him. I stopped putting up a fight and eventually his grip loosened upon my hair. His mind was upon other things then as he thought that was my submission. As soon as he was distracted I let myself be spun around again by my hair and just as I faced the window I pulled with all the force I had. He wasn't expecting me to willingly fall from that window. His grip on me was not tight enough to keep me from falling. That's how I fell through the window and landed on the gravel outside. I'm lucky it was only my knee I injured."

I finally stole a glance at James, who appeared upset by something, but not entirely shocked. He's told me since that he knew I had to have a good reason for jumping from a window and expected a tale of the kind that I told, but that he was grieved to hear that I'd gone through it all the same. "Did you return home to Ireland then?"

"I sold the dress I wore for something a little more understated and used the money to buy passage home to Ireland. I still don't know to this day how my uncle and his men did not catch me. I was stumbling around in the darkness for hours before I managed to even find out whereabouts in London I was. I thought I'd feel relief when that ship left the Thames behind but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was all only just beginning for me. I knew I couldn't go home to my mother as they would be watching for me. I didn't know what to do."

"But then you met O'Malley, if I am correct?" James asked.

I smiled at him softly and shook my head. "No, not quite. That was in fact almost two years before I met Mick."

It felt odd to me to be an object of such interest but James seemed so avidly interested by my story that I knew he'd ask more of me. "How did you get on then, if you were not able to return to your mother?"

I shrugged nochalantly. "I lived rough, that's it basically."

James was gazing at me in a way that told me he knew there was far more to it than living rough. The experience with my uncle was not really something I was that ashamed of as I'd managed to get myself out of the situation before anything untoward actually happened. I'd shown strength and resilience in a situation where many women would have been too frightened to do more than lie back and take it. It was more the fallout that ashamed me.

"You were fourteen I think you said? I think Miss O'Connell that there is no basically about it. How did a child of that age manage to survive alone? You are incredibly strong of mind I know, but surely the temptation to return home would have been too great?"

"Oh it was," I agreed swiftly, "But I was prevented from doing so." He wanted to know more, I could tell but I felt like even talking about that part of my life made me weaker in remembrance of it. "I lived rough for quite a while. I moved from town to town quite often. I didn't want to stay too long in case I ended up in the workhouse or something. I came across this pretty little town on the west coast and I was trying to keep my head down there for a week or two. The thing was, this old woman kept giving me food. I was grateful for the kindness, but it almost worried me that she was paying me so much attention. I didn't want anyone to notice me too much. I thought she was nice enough though. Then she started bringing her sister out with her to speak to me. I was the only person living on the streets there because it was a nice place. Those women took pity on me. There was another sister who was house bound but they all lived together in what was actually quite a big cottage. I think they had inherited some money but none of them had ever married and had children so they were just sitting on it all.

"They invited me to visit them one day and have tea. I went because I was hungry and I thought they were good people trying to do a good turn. Whilst I was there drinking my tea they offered a proposition to me. They were old and unable to look after the house as well as they would have liked. They obviously knew I had fallen on hard times so they offered me a job. I'd get a room of my own and square meals if I kept the house clean and tidy for them. They also mentioned that I'd be able to run errands for them and that if they could spare a few coins at the end of each month it would come to me. The kindness overwhelmed me so much that I did not take certain things into consideration. That cottage had three bedrooms and three alone. There was no space for me. They made up some excuse about clearing one of the rooms out for me and I believed them. That night I slept by the fire in the kitchen, and I did so for almost two years. For the first few weeks I thought I'd landed on my feet with three old women who were kind and agreeable. They kept piling up the work for me and I was eager for it to take my mind off my troubles. Soon though I did not even have time to eat.

"At the time I did not really see how dire it all was. I was effectively their slave. They kept me mostly in the kitchen if there were any visitors and I was not to intrude. I don't know why but somehow the fight had been knocked out of me so when their nasty sides came out I just let them treat me badly. They would hit me and scratch me with their nails and I just let them. Calling me names, pushing me while I was carrying heavy things. I didn't leave that house for months and to be honest I didn't realise how time was passing. I didn't realise how quickly I'd changed into a doormat for them to walk over me. I never saw a penny of the money they'd promised and I never ate because there was usually no time in the day and not enough food. I slept on that cold floor every night without argument. It got worse as time went on. The more I suffered the less hope I had. It became such a way of life that I honestly began to think I had brought it on myself in running from my uncle. I thought that was all I was worth. I don't quite know how they managed it but they-"

"They knocked the stuffing out of you," James interrupted.

I nodded. "I suppose that's an accurate description."

"James threw his hands wide. "And yet here you are before me, stronger perhaps than you have ever been."

"It was the day they tried to cut my hair off that I think I came to my senses. Odd; how I'd let them grind me down so badly but I couldn't possibly let them touch my hair. I think it was the only part of me I had left to cling to. I threw a strop and left the house and ran down to the beach. At that point, they let me out to run errands because they knew that I'd come wandering back. I had no drive or determination left to try and make a run for it. They let me go thinking that I'd be back in an hour or two once I'd calmed down. I stood on that beach and wanted it all to just end. I couldn't imagine living like that any longer under their thumbs but what was I to do? I thought I had no way out, nothing to live for. In the end I began to wade out into the water, thinking I'd just let it take me.

"It was the most remarkable feeling I got that day. It was like the sea was calling to me, but not to take me under. It was as if it was promising me something if I just held on that little bit longer. I remember the feel of the water lapping against my ankles, soothing my nerves and my tiredness. It was calling to me, telling me to keep fighting. In the snappiest decision I've ever made suddenly I was trekking back across the beach towards the nearby cliffs. I knew what I was going to do. I was going to follow the coast until I came to the next port and try to get on a ship. I didn't care how long I had to walk for. That's how I found my necklace, in a field along the way. I walked for two days and you know something, I wasn't even tired. That's how I met Mick. I walked aboard his ship when I reached the port and asked him to take me on. I know more than anything he felt sorry for me. He knew I was running from something and he didn't ask what. I'd been working my soul away for the last two years for those old crones so I knew I was strong enough to tackle life at sea. It would just take some getting used to."

James appeared transfixed by me. His intense gaze made me feel awkward and I felt my face turn red. "Thank you for confiding in me," he said at last. "I can tell you've not spoken of all that before. You have no need whatsoever to be ashamed of all that has happened to you. By all accounts you should be proud of your fighting spirit and your knack for knowing the right moment to leave behind that which meant you harm."

I shrugged. "I don't think I had such a fighting spirit when I was on my hands and knees three times a day scrubbing that kitchen floor. I'm ashamed that I let them grind me down so. I just dind't see it coming."

"I doubt anyone would. We have spoken of acts of kindness before have we not? Miss I think you have the kind of good heart that takes kindness for what it should be and that is not a failing. I think though you were a little naive. You did not know the world well enough to understand that not all people who offer kindness at first really do mean well. I only hope that your strength of character you possess so readily now is something that remains. Do not fall into such traps again. Keep your wits about you on the open seas as well as on land. I have the feeling that to Mr. Patrick O'Malley you may be a bargaining chip as well as a friend."

"I can handle Patrick, don't worry!" I replied.

"Now all that there is left I believe, is to thank you for your help Miss."

I was shaking my head at him. "You've thanked me already. You didn't have to pay that doctor you know. I have my own money."

"So I can see," James offered with a nod to my packages that I'd forgotten about.

"The only thing I'd ask for is a name," I said lightly. "Thing is, you won't give me one."

James sighed heavily. "I think Miss O'Connell I am doing you a favour there. Revenge is not healthy and it is not exhaustive. Once your revenge is accomplished it will not diminish but will in fact begin to eat away at your soul. You have a kind heart that should not be exposed to such emotions. You must learn to forget I think. You told me once that I should be moving on. Perhaps it's time you did the same. There's a room for you upstairs. The key is with the woman behind the bar."

With a small smile he left me and retreated upstairs. I was left feeling more confused about a man than I ever have been in my life.

* * *

 _ **I hope Fiona's backstory fits with the character I've been trying to write! The second conversation between the two is over and we've one more coming up in the next chapter!**_

 _ **Please let me know what you think!**_


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven - She's a Fool

_**Thanks for the review Guest! You'll have to wait and see what Patrick might be up to I'm afraid! ;) You'll find out all within the next two or three chapters!**_

 _ **This is the final of the three important conversations I'd set out for Fiona and James to have. Fiona might be about to finally admit her feelings to herself, but will she act upon them?**_

 _ **Enjoy! Also; see if you can spot how well this poem by W.B. Yeats fits in with a certain part of this chapter.**_

* * *

 ** _Chapter Twenty Seven - She's a Fool_**

 _Where has Maid Quiet gone to,  
Nodding her russet hood?  
The winds that awakened the stars  
Are blowing through my blood.  
O how could I be so calm  
When she rose up to depart?  
Now words that called up the lightning  
Are hurtling through my heart. _

_W.B. Yeats - Maid Quiet_

* * *

I'd not realised how strange it would feel to stand along the quayside and watch as _The Surgence_ was loaded with supplies whilst I knew I would not again sail aboard the navy ship. Yet another part of my life was seemingly coming to a close and I did not know quite how to feel about it. All of me; every fibre of my being was telling me that I was connected to James in some other worldly sort of way. The dreams I'd been having and the experience we'd shared inside the caves were not something I was willing to overlook. My view of James had greatly shifted but I was not so sure what he really thought of me. I had no doubt he'd continue to let me sail with him if I asked but that could not be allowed to happen. He'd been right in saying my secret would not likely remain so for much longer. I needed to remove myself from a situation that was likely going to cause trouble for all parties involved. James could not return to London with me aboard in case someone might spot me and link me to my uncle. That would bring no end of trouble to James's door. Even if I was not found out, a woman aboard a navy ship and comfortable there all the same would arouse suspicion. I really had no choice but to go.

"Miss O'Connell!" James was striding down the quay towards me and for a split second something within me was tempted to turn and walk away from him. I don't know why but somehow I was reluctant to say goodbye to him suddenly. It felt very final, as if that was it forever. My mind wasn't ready to deal with all of that. Those dreams I'd been having had convinced me that James and I should not be parted and yet I needed to go for his sake.

I smiled slightly at he reached me and he turned to survey the last barrels being loaded onto the deck of _The Surgence_. For the first time I longed to see something else in his eyes. I wanted to know that he felt the same as I did. I wanted confirmation that what I was feeling wasn't just something that was some twisted creation that my imagination had conjured up. It was not to be though. James always was able to carefully control his emotions. He was not cold, but he was certainly seeming to be indifferent that day.

"When do you sail?" he asked then as he turned his attention back to me.

"Shortly after twelve I think, Commodore."

He nodded. "You are happy then, to have found your friend?" I look back upon this question now and see that James was gently probing, ready to offer me some form of way to admit that I was not entirely sure that sailing with Patrick was the right thing for me to do. He'd have jumped at the chance to let me remain with him; that I know now. But then if I had not gone with Patrick, I do not know how different things might have been.

I shrugged. "He's an arse, if you'll forgive me language Commodore. Thing is, he's family. I think he knows now how much of a fool he was years ago. he's grown up a little, that I can tell. Perhaps the death of his brother has sobered him up a little. Patrick always did envy and look up to Mick even though he's loath to admit it!"

"Where will you go; back to Ireland?"

I turned then and stared back up the quay towards where _The Grace_ was tethered. Patrick was nowhere to be seen. "I think I have to. Hiding in plain sight might be the best option for me. I don't know if Patrick will be able to sail there straight away, but that's going to be my end goal."

James nodded stiffly. "Then I must ask you Miss to remember what I said to you some time ago. If you have need of a recommendation I am more than happy to give it."

I was shaking my head as I turned to face him. "Commodore I appreciate that offer very much but don't you think something like that might cause me to arouse more suspicion? I'm nothing to speak of and such a letter would surely have people considering that I am much more than I seem to be."

James smiled warily. "That is why I do not present one such letter to you now Miss. No, I understand the predicament. Should you find yourself in a situation where it is required and you feel that such a letter may only help you, you must write to me. Have a letter sent to the Commodore's residence in Port Royal. My staff there will endeavour to have such a letter reach me wherever I am. Though somehow I have the impression that such a letter would never be one you might send Miss. I certainly always have had the impression that you are not someone who readily asks for help. I simply wish to be sure you will not fall into the same trap as before. That story you told me about those three women who tricked you has played upon my mind a great deal. I appreciate that you are a different person now, but within you there is still that strange belief that there is good in everyone. I do wish you would not be quite so trusting in future."

I shrugged again. "You might be right, Commodore. I'm keen to make my own way in the world but I have learnt my lesson. I'm not about to let some old crones get the better of me."

He turned to face me and it was written all over his face that he wished to tell me it was not old crones he worried about where I was concerned. Thankfully he quelled any urges to voice such concerns. From such a position he was able to view the shopfronts that lined the other end of the quay. "Your friend does not go with you then?" He nodded in the direction of the shop fronts when I threw him a quizzical look.

I turned to the spot he'd indicated and saw Mai outside a shop, clearly trying to engage some form of employment. "She doesn't quite trust Patrick I'm afraid," I replied as I turned back to face James. "I tried to convince her this morning but she's determined to stay here."

James frowned. "I wonder Miss O'Connell, if you might oblige me in letting me give you something in return for all of your aid?"

Something in the way he said it made me think he was simply attempting to offer me some form of friendly advice. I did not expect him to dip his hand in and out of his coat pocket. When the hand returned, it clutched the hilt of a dagger. I was shaking my head before he'd even opened his mouth to speak again, my hands held up as if to push away such a gift.

"Commodore, I can't let you give me that!"

He dipped his head a little so that he could look directly into my eyes. "Miss O'Connell you have told me that this Patrick O'Malley is a rogue and a scoundrel and your friend does not trust him enough to sail with him. Your own weapon was destroyed in the act of dispelling a creature that should never have been aboard my ship, that I should have discovered myself and banished before you ever caught it's attention. Please allow me to offer you the chance to protect yourself to be best of your own ability. I would give you a pistol if I thought you might think upon it kindly, but something tells me that such a weapon would be repulsive to you. A blade may injure and maim without causing serious harm but a pistol is a much more deadly weapon. You do not have the constitution of a killer. That is not a failing Miss, before you take issue with my words. Take this blade and hide it about your person as you did previously. You've been of great aid to myself and I would be remiss in my actions as a gentlemen if I did not ensure that you have some way to protect yourself. In truth Miss it would ease my conscience greatly if I knew you had some way of defending yourself.

His hand moved then, sliding down so that it held the blade, presenting the hilt to me. The blade was silver, but the hilt was gold and encrusted with gems so green that I knew I would always be swiftly reminded of the colour of his eyes. "I know it is an ostentatious little thing but the blade is sharp and true. I have not been able to find one of the same likeness here. Alas, it is a piece I have carried with me for some time and have not ever required a use for it. I hope you never have a use for it too."

I looked up into his eyes again, and understood that the blade must mean something to him in some way and he was offering it up to me for my own protection. Suddenly I knew I could not refuse such an offer. It was a small part of him that I would get to keep with me. I took the hilt gently in my own hand and James released the blade, nodding as if pleased I had relented. "As I said Miss O'Connell, I hope you never do have cause to use it. Whatever it may be that you seek, I hope you find it swiftly."

I smiled at him as I slipped the blade into the belt at my waist. "I hope the same for you Commodore. I hope you also think upon that sword a little more. I don't think it's something that should fall into my uncle's hands."

James nodded in agreement as he took a step back from me. "You know it is something I am considering," James supplied thinly. "Rather the sword than you though, do you not think Miss O'Connell?"

"There's not much chance of me letting that happen Commodore."

He threw me a shrewd glance as he caught the meaning that I was perhaps not even entirely sure of myself. He knew though, that I had tucked into my belt the means with which I might end my life if I found myself in the presence of my uncle again. He had more of an understanding from that one statement about how much I feared my uncle than the whole conversation we had shared the evening before.

"Then I hope you never have cause to cross paths with him again Miss O'Connell. I hope you live a long and happy life upon the sea." If he wanted to say more, he resigned himself to keeping our goodbye very brief. "Perhaps you and I might cross paths with one another again in time."

"Keep a weather eye on that horizon Commodore; for you might just find me captain of my own ship in the not so distant future!" I quipped jovially even though I felt anything but happy.

He threw me the smallest of knowing grins then as he touched his hand to his hat. "I take my leave of you then Miss."

"Goodbye Commodore." Would that I could have managed to say nothing else as he turned from me. Perhaps we might have remained friends and he would never have realised how I had grown to appreciate him. Instead within me I thought I must say something. Even if I never was to cross paths with him again I understood that he did not deserve to live life alone. He had such a bleak view of his own future still that it pained me to think of him twenty years on and still rattling around aboard a ship with no family or love to return home to. "She's a fool you know!" My voice reached him I knew, because he stopped. When he turned his head I could see the anguish there, the darkness. I had made him think upon her again when his thoughts had been otherwise engaged for a time. "The woman who spurned you. She doesn't know what she threw away! From what Sparrow did tell me, she was not your match Commodore. She would not have complimented you as you would her. You could not have hoped to maintain a happy and beneficial marriage. Find someone who understands your world well Commodore, but not one that would bring nothing to it herself. You are a decent man even though I think you tell yourself otherwise. Any young woman would be lucky to have you even as a friend. When you are next in London, do not forget that there are people in the world that see the wondrous qualities in you even when you do not see them yourself! Do not let some fortune hunter get the better of you with her charms. You have charm enough of your own to keep them amused if you would only use it! You will know the right one when she comes along! She won't care about money or fine things. She'll see you for who you really are."

If he was surprised or affected by my words he did not show it. How I longed for a second for him to turn completely back towards me, but I knew that he would not. Why would someone like him ever look to me with anything other than pity. I wasn't the kind of well bred fine lady who could stand to be the bauble on his arm. Granted, that woman would do a lot of things unseen to help him and still manage to be a Commodore's dainty wife in public. It would be a difficult job and one that only the best could do. Perhaps Miss Swann might have cut the mustard if they'd managed to get that far. It certainly seemed that she was energetic and resourceful but would she have been able to give all of that to James. Would she have cared for him or loved him enough to carry on doing so until his retirement, and perhaps even after. She was likely good with society but long cold winters at home holding down the fort when your husband is away is a tasking enterprise. The worry and distress that missing letters might cause did not bear thinking about. Surely he could see now that she was not the match for him? How could he not? She would not have stood by him in the darkness not because she did not have the determination within her, but because she longed too much for adventure and sought someone who was prepared to give her that. If James made admiral he would need a rock. He would need unwavering support and an ability to survive alone within London society whilst still ensuring that she represented her husband well. It was not something that was going to be easy to find. I did not realise at the time that he had not actually intimated to me or anyone else for that matter that he really wanted all of that with his whole heart. I did not consider that within him there might be some longing for an adventure shared. No, back then I thought he was so unattainable to me that I did not even picture myself on his arm at all.

With one last soft and a little confused smile to me he was gone, striding off down the quay away from me. Had he even understood what I had said? Had he even taken it all in? I would likely never know. The chances that he'd meet some pretty earl's daughter with golden ringlets and rosy cheeks in the next port and fixate upon her until she was his was just as high. He was a red blooded male after all. Sometimes something so small and trivial might ensnare them and they are lost forever to a pair of pretty eyes. Somehow I was going to have to get over everything that pulled me towards him. I was going to have to forget my dreams and imaginings for that was what they must surely be. He was as lost to me as my mother and father were. I moved back along the quay so that I might watch the ship casting off from within a crowd. From the deck of _The Surgence_ no one would be able to spot me. I could feel the cold steel of the blade pressing against my hip through my skirt and I tried my very hardest to anchor my thoughts there. I did not want to let my mind wander too far into what might have been if I'd stayed aboard that ship. I think I'd not really been ready to admit to myself before that I felt something quite strong for James. It was something that had grown within me so gradually that I'd not seen it coming at all. It was more than just a fleeting attraction to a man in a uniform though. I'd never been so fickle as to let something like a uniform phase me before and I was sure that was something that had not changed. Granted, James was handsome enough to catch any woman's eye in my opinion but it was his steadfastness; his determination and his decency that had made me like him against my own will. I'd appreciated that he was a good man even if he did not make the wisest decisions. He'd been open after some time to trusting and respecting me as an equal, which I think was where the real attraction began. His ability to see me just as I was and still respect me had completely changed my perspective about the man.

How was I to know that my words would take great affect upon him. He told me later on that everything I had said he needed to look for, he had seen in me; and yet he walked away. He'd given up caring what the establishment thought of him, for when he returned with a golden sword in hand that could vanquish sea monsters he knew that he was destined for greatness. He had the kind of determination that could weather scandal, such as an admiral marrying an Irish country girl who he'd met at sea. he'd not feel the need to embed me in London society for months on end to make it seem as if we met by chance in a ballroom and he took pity on a lower relation of some one of his friends. No, he didn't really care for all of that nonsense. The subterfuge would only have pained me, he understood. I presented everything; well almost everything that I was upon my own sleeve. I was a free spirit that had bewitched him. The only reason he did not turn aback was because he thought I was indifferent to him. I mean that's what he says but I'll never know the truth. Would I say he had harboured feelings for me then? Perhaps he did, but he did not recognise them yet. He was still dealing with his heartbreak and suddenly I was thrust before him in so strange a manner. He'd not had a chance to process it all because I'd been nearby. I think the fact that he and I were so different was a stumbling block for him. I think he thought back then that our close confinement had made him think more of someone like me than he would normally have done and that in a few months time he might feel differently. After all, he had not seen what I had seen. I was the one who knew that fate was trying to push us together, for that was how we should be. He did not appreciate the depth of my admiration enough to really consider what a life for us together might be like. To him I was yet another woman that would accept his love as enough. He could not have known that I did though. He says he did, but that's because men think they should tell women what they want to hear. He doesn't want to offend me by telling me that he was frightfully confused by it all back then and that he needed time to think it all through. I think that explanation I'd have appreciated more! I did not want the swift and rash attentions of a man in the throws of infatuation. I wanted a man who knew what he wanted, was determined and considerate and had taken the time to know his own mind. I mean I knew he had all of that in him back then, but I didn't know if he knew it.

Just as I'd found someone I appreciated in this new way, I'd lost him again. I'd never considered that I might really feel for a man that way. I'd thought I'd just spend my life at sea with Mick and hadn't been bothered about being alone. I thought I'd have my friends and that it would be enough for me. I didn't want to think about the fact that I could simply be searching for someone now that I had no friends. Was I really longing for company that badly that I'd convinced myself I had feelings for the man? I really hoped that was not the case because what I felt seemed so real; more real than any flights of fancy I'd ever had before. It felt more grounded and secure than what I'd felt for Patrick six years ago even though Patrick was certainly the more attainable of the two.

Even though Patrick was protesting, I was sure if I laid it on thick enough he'd jump at the chance. That was not something I'd ever do, mind. Patrick only needed a little push but I knew he'd likely find some way to dump me at the nearest port afterwards. Patrick wanted everything with no ropes attached. He didn't want to have to trifle with emotions and feelings of a young woman even if they were showering him with attention. I even knew that at sixteen. I'd been of a different mind then. I'd thrown caution to the winds and let him have his way with me even though I knew exactly what he was like. Did I expect him to behave differently towards me because of Mick? Not exactly, but I'd hoped he might take a shine to me. I had Mick as a friend and a father figure but at such a young age I felt so lost. I could think of nothing I wanted more than a man at my side who'd protect and care for me. I thought perhaps Patrick might be that for me.

Patrick had come across Mick in a port town shortly after I began sailing aboard _The Grace_. Patrick had gotten himself into a spot of bother and needed to leave rather quickly. Mick disproved of course but he could not have lived with himself if he'd left his brother behind. So Patrick came aboard. Patrick always was rather dashing. He looks like a rogue and a pirate, with his wild black curly hair and that grin that makes you feel like he's about to let you in on some secret. It all began because I teased him about his golden earrings that hung from both ears. He'd taken it in good humour, teasing me about my hair in return. We danced around each other for a week or two whilst Mick watched our backs. I was aware that Mick had warned Patrick to steer well clear of me but his younger brother seemed reluctant to heed such warnings. Back then it was only playful banter even if it was a little flirtatious. There was no harm in it at all but it still made Mick uncomfortable. I understand now that Mick knew his brother far better than I did and he was worried for me. Of course at the time I thought I knew best, like all sixteen year old girls do. That's what I was, just a girl. I was still a child in so many ways. I'd not learnt that it wasn't just old and creepy uncles who could have ulterior motives. Handsome young men could be just as scheming.

Patrick and I eventually fell into my cabin bed together one night and spent it together. I realised very quickly after that first time that I'd been seeking some kind of rebellion. I was no longer pure or contrite. I was not the perfect Irish bride that my uncle had sought and it filled me with pride. I'd also managed to make myself unattainable in the eyes of any respectable man who wanted a respectable marriage. For a week or two I was buoyed by that thought even though I knew that Patrick was not really interested in me. He'd seen an opportunity and he'd taken it. The next thing I knew, he was suggesting that I meet Tia Dalma. He'd seen what I could do with charts and thought it a useful skill that should be exploited. Of course I know now that what I am able to do is quite common. It's called a photographic memory by some. Back then though, I think I was more likely to be strung up as a witch than appreciated for remembering things that others couldn't possibly hope to. Mick was under the illusion that Tia Dalma might be able to school me and that was the only reason he agreed to such a visit. He very quickly realised as did I that Tia Dalma was not someone to be trusted however. She knew who I was even then. She knew what I could do and she wanted such power for herself. Tia Dalma knows more about fate than anyone I think. She understood that fate would come into play at some point. She knew I was fated to meet James and she wanted it to happen under her watch. I'm glad Mick saw the sense in dragging me out of there before things could go too far. That was pretty much the beginning of the hostility between Mick and Patrick. Mick found out about our little dalliances and knew somehow that Patrick had intended all along to get me onside. Tia Dalma had likely promised him some form of payment in return for me.

Patrick had tricked me, but I wasn't as upset about it as Mick was. I certainly felt that he should have been honest with me, but Patrick was right in saying that I used him just as much as he used me. He'd taught me quite a lot too. After Mick dumped him at the nearest port he could find, I felt free somehow. I was no longer craving that support and protection because I had Mick. Mick didn't need any incentive to have my back either. He did it because he genuinely cared. Patrick would have wanted something in return. It did make me wonder if Patrick might ask something of me that I did not want to give. He might attempt to embroil me in one of his schemes thinking I'd go along with it. I knew in my own mind that I was not going to let myself fall into such a trap but Patrick was a persuasive man. He could force me into all kinds of predicaments with no way out but to go along with what he said. I determined that I'd be ever so careful.

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 _ **We'll be seeing a bit more of Patrick O'Malley in the next chapter. Will Fiona be able to resist his charms, and what exactly might he be up to?**_


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight- Pride is a Failing

**_Thanks to the guests and Tyre for the reviews!_**

 ** _In this chapter, we learn a little more about Patrick O'Malley and we might get an inkling of what he's up to! No James in this chapter sadly, but he will be reappearing soon! ;)_**

 ** _I might not get to update this story again for a week or two as I'm on holiday next week, but I'll try my best to get something written next week._**

 ** _(_** ** _I don't allow myself to upload unless I've a further two chapters finished.)_**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Twenty Eight - Pride is a Failing_**

 _Shame. It radiated off her in waves. My heart went out to the woman even before I knew what it was she was ashamed of. There was something about it that did not sit right at all with me even before I observed that she wore no clothing. She had clamped her arms tightly around herself to try and maintain some form of dignity as the men around her looked on unabashedly. One stern fellow who stood nearby held a knife and the remains of a torn silky red fabric. I knew then that she'd been stripped of her clothing. I could feel the eyes that roved over her skin, taking in that which was always to be unattainable to them all. It was clear though that many of them were regretting their sworn oath to protect and shield such a woman now that she was laid bare before them. If she was to be a sacrifice and live no longer, what need was there to preserve any of her purity?_

 _"We have no other choice." The voice was full of pain and remorse, but the woman felt only disappointment for the speaker._

 _"Our daughter for a kingdom?" asked an older woman who looked remarkably like the one I'd seen in my dreams for so long. The careful red curls were the same, as were the eyes. "Can we really have angered the gods to such an extent? Is this really what they will ask of us? Would they not let her marry? We could offer her in marriage to whomever they may chose-"_

 _"I think that might be the issue." It was the first time I'd heard Andromeda speak, and her tone was icy. There was disdain there along with disappointment and confusion. Nevertheless she sounded strong and defiant, as if she'd take whatever they threw at her with grace and decorum. "Perhaps if neither of you had been so willing to praise of that which a mother and father will always see in their daughter, we would not be in this predicament. If only you'd exercised a little more humility, then it would not be asked of you."_

 _"Fetch her another dress," supplied the older woman that I was sure was her mother. Andromeda bristled. "There is no need to expose her before the time comes."_

 _"Why ever not, mother?" Andromeda almost spat in the direction of her parents. "You were so keen for the world to believe in my beauty and my fertility. Why do you now shrink from boasting?"_

 _A cloak was thrown over Andromeda's shoulders by unseen hands and she clutched it to her, grateful for the protection of it despite her determination to meet the sacrifice that had been asked of her._

 _"Your mother wished for you to marry well Andromeda, as did I." Her father stepped forward as if to take her into his embrace and Andromeda took five strides backwards. Strangely, she found that she would rather stand closer to her father's leering warriors than next to her own father in that moment. "We never did believe that we disrespected the gods in our pride of you."_

 _"Pride is a failing in itself. Nevertheless father, I will go willingly with you to the place you spoke of. I will do what has been tasked of me to free our people from this blight. I will give my life and the storm shall pass. I will do what neither of you would ever consider doing and lay down my life. I will face the sea with pride. I will face death knowing that in return our people will have a free life. All of your boasting has been in vein. Your lovely daughter has no need of suitors now. I wonder how you will manage father, without a daughter to have wed?"_

 _"Are you not frightened, my dear?" Her mother had stepped closer and Andromeda let her. There was no real malice in either of her parents and her mother's sad eyes in those few seconds tore her heart in two._

 _"Of course I am, mother. I am terrified. The sea is a perilous place. As father said though, there is no other way. It is what has been asked of us, and I will go willingly."_

 _Her compliance was well met. Andromeda did not expect her father to act so quickly, but then he was a man who was a king. He had to be seen to do so. "Assemble a crew and ready a ship."_

 _The man with her torn dress and knife still in his hands nodded once and moved swiftly, leaving the hall to carry out his duty. No one else stirred. They all waited expectantly, and for what; Andromeda did not know._

The dream did not startle me. I'd had it so many times since I'd been back aboard _The Grace_ that I was more shocked to find that I'd fallen into a doze sitting on the steps with my head resting on the railings. I'm not the type who finds it easy to sleep during the afternoon but something was weighing heavily upon my shoulders and draining me of the energy I had. Perhaps it was my lack of real occupation that was in turn making me more tired. When I was occupied with work I had little time for thought or recollection. Patrick had supplied me with only menial tasks thus far though and I was beginning to feel the edges of my mind fraying as boredom set in. Patrick had used the excuse of my having been through an ordeal that was more than enough for anyone's lifetime to stop me from doing any real work. I don't know how he worked that out, for people die at sea every day whilst others watch. He did not know how I might have suffered before I met Mick and I was sure I did not want him to ever find out. I could help in the galley whenever I liked and Patrick would often ask me navigational questions, but he would not let me act upon any answer I might give him. Perhaps that was just as much to do with me being a woman as anything else though. Patrick's crew were all brutes of the highest calibre and I knew I was only safe because Patrick willed it. Without his protection I'd have been torn to shreds already.

I moved before someone could tell me off for taking up space on the steps and ventured below decks to the one place that felt as if it still welcomed me aboard my old home. The galley was not somewhere I'd spent much time because every woman the world over knows that once she's seen in a kitchen with any kind of skill she will never be allowed to leave it. Nevertheless I'd found a solace there with the new cook, Mr. Doyle. His surname might have been Irish but there was no accent. He sounded entirely English to me, and that was why I'd grown to trust him in just a few weeks. It was a comfort I suppose, to still hear such an accent after months growing accustomed to it aboard a royal navy ship. It also meant that Mr. Doyle was not part of Patrick's band of cut throats because he was an outsider; just like me. Mr. Doyle had only been employed because he could cook well enough and had worked in a kitchen on land for some time.

I automatically began to chop whatever remained of the few vegetables he had managed to bring aboard with him before we left Rio and threw them into the copper pot he'd assembled atop the stove. Larger pieces of meat had to be boiled rather than roasted on so small a vessel so my vegetables would create a bed for the pork that Mr. Doyle was seasoning.

"I'll miss you when you go, you know Miss."

I turned to throw him a curious look. "Who says I'm going anywhere, Mr. Doyle?"

He shook his head knowingly at me. "What does a young woman like you want to be doing on a ship like this eh? The Captain might be a friend to you but we both know that you're something else to him. Best if you find your own way without his help Miss. You should go as soon as you get the chance. Do you think he'll wait until you're ready to be used as leverage or bait? I'm an old man who's seen the world. Mark my words, he'll pounce when you least expect it. You've a bit of something about you Miss. I'd hate to see that go to waste. Have you not got some friend somewhere that could help you? If you have, go to them rather than that fool upstairs. I'll miss you of course and our little talks but I'd much rather see you living a good life. Even if the Captain does not betray you, what kind of life do you expect to have with him, stuck helping me down here? That's not much of an adventure. What about love and happiness? What about finding someone to share things with? I know you want an adventure but wouldn't you like to share it with someone?"

I threw the old man a look that probably spoke to him of confusion.

"Oh lord don't tell me you've taken notions for that fool upstairs!" Mr. Doyle swivelled on his stool to stare at me. "I thought you were smarter than that, girl!"

I chuckled lightly. "I am smarter. Trust me, he's the last person I'd look at in such a way again. No, I might have admired him as a younger woman but I'm wise to his tricks now." I smiled then in an attempt to divert the course of conversation and Mr. Doyle knew I was about to tease him for he turned back towards the pork with a sigh. "I was thinking more of me and you going on an adventure Mr. Doyle!"

He laughed lightly. "My adventurous side's long gone. I'm here because the Captain's paying me a good wage is all. I've seen enough of the world to be satisfied. Besides, I wouldn't feel right exploring and enjoying the world without my wife at my side. I'd feel like I was betraying her memory."

We fell into companionable silence for a while as I contemplated my new friend. Mr. Doyle had lost his wife not long before he stepped aboard _The Grace_ and I wondered if he too, like mick; was unable to cope with life on land and all of the memories there. It pained me to know he felt his life was basically over now that his wife was gone, but then I'd never really understood that power of love had I? I'd never known what that felt like, to be so attached to someone that life without them seemed futile. I know I'd missed Mick incredibly and the first few weeks had been extremely difficult for me, but I'd come round slowly. There'd been a glimmer of hope somewhere. I didn't let myself begin to think that such a glimmer of hope might actually have had a name. I didn't want to think of James when we were now so far removed from each other.

The door to the narrow galley opened a short while later and Patrick squeezed in. He sidled up to me and made small talk with Mr. Doyle for a few moments before he motioned to me to follow him. Mr. Doyle gave me a long suffering look as Patrick turned away and it spoke of so many different warnings. I shrugged in reply and followed Patrick out through the crew's mess and on into a quieter and darker part of the ship. In a narrow corridor we stopped and Patrick leaned back against the wooden partition wall. He was gazing at me sharply, as if waiting for some witty comment that he could rebuff, but I decided to disappoint him and stayed silent. Instead I took in the man before me, and how a change of lighting could transform his usually charming face into a slightly menacing one. There in the darkness he appeared to be a more sinister version of himself. Little did I know that I was more than likely seeing the real Patrick before me for the first time.

His silence was unnerving. Although I did not think he'd have pounced on me in that dark corridor I was definitely unsure of his intentions. He'd not want toy with my feelings in case I ended up attached to him in some way but Mr. Doyle was right in that Patrick certainly considered me as useful to him in some way. That was exactly the reason he would toe the line. He would not be inappropriate with me again in case he ever needed something from me. His usual jovial appearance and his charming ways were in effect quite a good disguise. The truth was that Patrick could be as calculating as any decent cut throat or pirate when he wanted to be. He was dangerous, and I was going to have to skirt around that danger for the time being.

"I'm lost Fiona..." His words felt alien in the silence of the bowels of the ship. "There's only so much longer that my crew will go on believing that I know where I'm going. I've you for help of course and you're a God-send but how is a captain to function without maps and charts. There are none of Mick's here. I know you've them all stored in your head lass but I need to see them for myself. These men aren't going to go on blindly trusting a captain who has not a single chart to follow." Patrick raked his hand through his dark hair exasperatedly.

I shook my head at him. "Purchase some charts at the next port Patrick."

"With what money?"

He was clearly looking to me for an answer and I had none to give him. The pouch of gold coins I'd hidden behind a wooden panel in my cabin sprung to my mind, but I was no more going to give that over to Patrick than I would Jack Sparrow. It was my money and Mick's and I would not see it thrown away. If Patrick came into money, I was certain that the last thing he would think to purchase with it would be charts. I shrugged at him as I realised he was waiting for me to answer him.

"Surely you can find money from somewhere Patrick! You're resourceful enough!"

He shook his head. "I shouldn't burden you with my problems Fiona but you are the only one aboard this ship who won't judge me too harshly. There's something you should know. Perhaps I should have told you before you came aboard."

I leaned a little closer to him as his words were little more than a whisper. "Is that why we're skulking down here?"

Patrick nodded slowly. "Fiona I owe people money! Any money I do find is to be passed to them before it can benefit me. I would rather pay them off first anyway. There's a man on my back. Not to mention the fact he helped me tow this ship into port so I could make the required repairs. If you're on his side I reckon he's a good ally to have. He appears to like me, so I stand a good chance of a good reception whenever I see him. I just have to ensure I pay him back well."

"This man," I began to ask tentatively, "Is he requiring gold as a payment or something else? I know you Patrick. You'd agree to anything if you thought you'd get some immediate benefit from it."

He slowly let his features soften so that he could grin at me. "I forgot how switched on you are. No, you're right in that he won't necessarily make me pay him back in gold. There are other ways to pay a man like that."

"I don't like the sound of this man Patrick." Indeed there was a slightly nauseous feeling growing within my stomach as if my own body was trying to warn me against probing further. Even though I did not want to know the identity of the man in that moment, I knew I should prepare myself for the inevitable in case we came across him.

"Oh he's not so bad," Patrick confirmed after a few seconds of thought. "He's as much of a schemer as Mick and I but we aren't bad people."

I snorted and swatted his arm. "Mick was definitely not a bad man, but the jury is still out on you Patrick!"

He took my statement the jest I intended it to be, no matter how much truth there really was in the words. He laughed loudly and patted my shoulder gently with his large hand. "What can I say Fiona, I'm a product of my environment. You always knew I was a scoundrel though. I never shied away from what I am. I think you secretly like that about me." He winked. Despite his warning to me, I'd known at some point that he'd have dropped his guard and flirted with me but I hadn't expected it to be so soon or with the absence of copious amounts of rum. "I'm never going to pretend to be anything else but myself around you. I think you'll find that refreshing enough after being stuck on that navy ship for so long with all those uptight Englishmen. Who I am never bothered you before. In fact, there was a time when you liked the fact that I wasn't wholly decent. It gave you a thrill."

Patrick moved forward then, forcing me to step back again until my back was against the panelled wall. He was not menacing in his approach but curious. He wanted to know just how I'd react and if he could still potentially work his charms upon me. Perhaps I might have fallen for all of it again given how lonely and lost I had felt since Mick's death; if it had not been for the memory flashing before my eyes of being in such a darkened corridor with another man. With Patrick there was always some ulterior motive. He was trying to test my ability to resist him because he'd want to use me in some way. With James, there had been no motive at all. Indeed I think in those few seconds when I still believe that he had perhaps thought of kissing me, all rational thought had left his mind. He'd moved towards me almost reluctantly and completely against his own better judgement. Whatever the outcome had been or how far apart we'd found ourselves afterwards I was in no doubt that my feelings towards James were real. I knew his feelings were real too. Granted, I did not think for a second that I had the monopoly on what went through James's mind but I knew he'd wanted to kiss me. He might never think of me again in his life at all, but in that moment he'd at least to succumbed to the notion of kissing me purely because he wanted to. It was almost instinct for us to draw closer. There was a marked difference between the two scenarios and I knew which one I'd rather have played out, regardless of what man stood before me. I didn't want Patrick to flirt with me, to kiss me or to try and play with my emotions purely for his own benefit. I did not want Patrick to kiss me at all; I knew, but at least if he'd been acting on his feelings as a red blooded male I'd have been able to live with it.

I side stepped quickly to ensure Patrick's face did not reach mine. He stopped, his head hovering just to the right of mine and I couldn't read what I saw in his eyes in that moment. I could feel his breath on the side of my cheek and as much as I wanted to turn away from him altogether I had to face him down. I had to let him know he did not frighten me, that we were equals. My eyes met his in the darkness and it was clear he was assessing me.

"You don't frighten me Patrick," I whispered. "You never really did. I know you're trouble, but I can handle you. You didn't want to complicate things back in Rio, so why have things changed? What is it that you really want from me? There is something. You wouldn't be trying to wrap me around your little finger if there wasn't."

He stepped back to lean against the wall behind him and I had the satisfaction of seeing guilt wash over his features for just a split second. "You're right Fiona, in that things would be easier for me if I knew I'd always have you in my corner. You were so malleable when you were younger but over the last few weeks I've seen the change in you. You won't bow down to anyone will you? That might keep you on the safe and narrow when it comes to me but it won't always help you. There are times when it benefits a woman to comply with grace and silence. You're lucky you've never met a man that would expect such things of you. I had thought I might be able to use your help to pay off my debts in some way."

I shook my head as a thought came to my mind. "Were you planning on selling me Patrick?"

He grinned sheepishly. "When you were that enamoured sixteen year old I think you were so besotted with me that you'd have gone along with such a thing if I'd asked. Now I'm not so sure about that. You're too smart for all of that now. Plus you've clearly been wrapped in cotton wool on that navy ship and you now probably think you can marry some fine English gent if you put a pretty hat on and walk in the right way. They certainly kept you well. The truth is that wont ever happen Fiona. You and I are from the gutter as far as the English are concerned. We are a commodity to be used and tossed away as they see fit the way all of the Irish are. You were well looked after out of the Commodore's respect for Mick. You told me that yourself. Perhaps some of those men thought that if they treated you the right way, you'd spread your legs for them. They work differently to us. They seek to flatter and deceive women into bed through pretty words and flowers and the promise of a good marriage. It's all lies of course. At least I'm honest and upfront. All I want is some company in the arms of a good woman Fiona. I won't offer you my heart or any lace or frills because I can't give you it. What's the harm in a little company and a little fun though. I can't help if if this new version of you is much more attractive than the sixteen year old I first tricked into bed. You're more of a challenge now."

He leaned forward again and before I could move he had placed the palms of his hands on the wall either side of my head. His nose brushed against my jawline as he lowered his face to the crook of my neck. At the first touch of his lips against my collarbone I stiffened and pushed him gently away. He went willingly, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"Relax Fiona. I'm not going to do anything you are not comfortable with." He reached forward and tugged on the blade of the knife tucked into my belt. "God knows what you'd do to me with this if I forced myself on you. You'd probably tear me apart with that blade of yours. There's this new ferociousness to you that I'm not entirely accustomed to yet. I know you are a little wild cat. It does you credit. Just know that although I find it quite attractive, my men won't take kindly to you pulling a knife on them. I can only protect you so far as my lover or my friend. Of course if you shared my bed at night you'd be far safer, but if you'd rather we were just friends, that's okay. I just thought you needed company as much as I do."

I sighed heavily. "Company sounds nice Patrick, in all honesty. It's just that I find that company isn't quite..." Unable to explain my thoughts I shrugged and fell silent for a few seconds. "I need honesty and loyalty and support and intelligent conversation. I need trust and security...Company can't give me all of that. I need to feel like I'm not so alone in the world anymore."

"My God!" Patrick whistled incredulously. "Fiona O'Connell the secret romantic! I never thought you'd be one to want more! I thought the sea was enough for you."

"I had Mick though. I had the most loyal friend in the world. The sea seemed more like home when Mick was still alive. Now the sea is just the path. It's not home any more. I need to find what that home is. I'd rather be on my own than give in to something that is not real. I can't face the hurt any more. You know it Patrick, you'd end up hurting me. I don't know that you'd intentionally hurt me but it would happen nonetheless. I've had enough of that. If you can promise not to use me for any tricks or schemes then I will always be a friend to you from now on. I could use a friend. Lets not complicate things."

Patrick nodded in agreement, his brown eyes warm and soft in the darkness and just like that the charm was back. He was no longer sinister. He drew me to him and I stiffened for a second before I realised he was simply wrapping his arms around me. I laid my head on his chest and breathed a sigh of relief. I'd meant what I said. I could use a friend in the world now that Mick was gone and James was leagues away.

"Friends help each other out though, right?" Patrick asked against my hair.

I laughed. "They do Patrick. You're right about that. They don't ask things of friends that they would not do themselves if they could though. We can be friends and I will try to help you sort out those debts but I won't do anything illegal and you won't ask me to. Don't try to force my hand Patrick, or I'll no longer be a friend."

When I returned to my little cabin later on the first thing I did was open the wooden panel behind which I'd hidden anything I considered valuable. I took out the coin purse and what I had left of my mother's jewellery, along with my own necklace. I Stuffed them into the pockets of my skirts, already knowing my sleep would not be as comfortable with them on my person, but Patrick had shown his hand. he had something in store for me and I had no idea what it was. I judged quite rightly it seems, for now looking back I can say that it was not good. I thought I'd done well enough in placating him and making him think we were going to be thick as thieves. Perhaps there would not come a time when he would ever use me as a commodity but I had to be on my guard. I had to think the worst of everything and hope that Patrick's decency might surprise me. If he turned out to be a good man I could apologise later.

It was just that I couldn't help comparing him to James. Granted, when I'd first stepped aboard The Surgence he was horrible to me and I think he's the first to admit it. It kind of made us realise that we were both suffering together though. If we had not both been so low, we might not have found ways to become closer. It was the simple fact that James had lost everything and yet he had still found a way to trust me and do right by me that had me realising that good men were not born but made. James suffered still and yet he'd acted to protect me because he was a good man. He'd appreciated and trusted me without any prompting from anyone else, and not because he'd wanted something from me. Of course in the beginning he'd wanted to use me. That was grief talking though. Grief does that to people. It distorts your emotions and your reactions and makes you become some version of yourself that is not quite sane. I'd managed to glimpse the real James without the madness of grief and shame and I liked him very much. I'd felt more his friend than I ever had done Patrick's, and James had not laid a hand on me.

There were different kinds of friendships and Patrick offered me a material one. I was a friend as long as I had something to offer him. James had known almost straight away that I had nothing at all in the world to give to anyone, and he'd seen in me his own reflection. Our friendship was borne out of our own despair that we saw mirrored in one another. unintentionally, we had sought to comfort one another without even knowing it. That was the kind of friend I wanted in my life. Until Patrick lived up to those standards. I wouldn't trust him with a single strand of my own hair, let alone my life.

* * *

 _ **Fiona seems to have the measure of Patrick, but weather that will be of help to her remains to be seen!**_

 _ **In the next chapter, an old foe makes a reappearance and Patrick has a decision to make.**_


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine - The Grace

_**So I've managed to get another chapter finished so I can upload this one despite my holiday, couldn't resist it!**_

 _ **Guest; I'm so glad you noticed all of those points! You're right of course! I like how you noticed the mention of the darkest part of the ship!**_

 _ **So I thought I'd add a little info to the story about the woman who gave her name to Mick's ship and the name of this chapter. I also realised Fiona might have a thought or two upon such a woman. We'll also find out what lengths Patrick may be prepared to go to in order to pay off his debts and Fiona will learn a little more about Andromeda's fate.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Twenty Nine - The Grace**_

By the time the pirate Queen Grace O'Malley had divorced her second husband, she was in rather a good position; with hundreds of men at her disposal and many ships to hand. She'd made strategic marriages that benefited her well and from her keep on Clare Island she would launch her men upon ships taking the passage of Clew Bay to reach Galway. She might have been a renowned seafarer but she was also skilled with the diplomacy of Queens. As Queen of her clan she met with Queen Elizabeth in order to secure the release of her sons and brother. Although there are many tales about such a meeting, it is clear that the pirate Queen who entered Greenwich Palace with a knife hidden about her person earned the respect of the English Queen. Grace had courage in her own convictions and I like to think that was what Elizabeth appreciated about her. Elizabeth eventually reneged on the deal they had brokered after a few years and Grace went back to her old ways of supporting the Irish rebellion against English rule in Ireland.

I have the distinct notion that neither of them had ever really trusted one another enough to really consider sticking to any promises they'd made. They were shrewd women and I admire them both immensely. I might think like Grace in that I'm not overly keen on recognising an English monarch but I do appreciate the woman that Elizabeth was. She was strong and determined. She's often said to have been guilty of a nasty temper but I would like to know what's so wrong with that? When a man has a temper he's assertive, determined and impassioned. When a woman has a tempter she's bitter and exasperated. Women the world over have been made to feel like their passion was something to hide and deny when men have only been praised for speaking their minds. The world of men that I grew up in requires a woman to speak her mind in temper to get her own way though. If we do not stand up and be counted we will be walked all over.

I'd thought I might feel emboldened by the woman who had given her name to the ship I'd been so fond of. I'd hoped that the legacies of Grace and her English counterpart might have given me the courage to stand up to Patrick's stubborn rule aboard _The Grace_ but I found myself sinking slowly into another phase of melancholy. I was certainly well respected enough by the crew but I knew that was only because Patrick had ordered it to be so. If Patrick were absent I'd no idea what kind of treatment I might have suffered. Patrick was my only friend aboard and yet his protection was also suffocating. I knew he was scheming and plotting from the moment I'd stepped aboard but I had no way of knowing what fate had in store for me. I was so careful for the first few weeks but things did begin to slip a little.

You'll know by now that I'm not adverse to admitting my struggles. I was certainly struggling aboard _The Grace_. Just standing on deck and watching the crew mill about made me think of the friends that I had lost. I saw and heard them everywhere. It was worse below decks when I was moving about in the darkness of the narrow corridors and staircases. I'd hear footsteps and expect to come face to face with one of my friends, only to find a member of Patrick's crew barrelling towards me. There was certainly not as much care taken by Patrick's crew and they were always in a hurry. They were also very secretive. Apart from the cook Mr. Doyle and Patrick, no one really bothered with me. Yet again I was able to discern that had been a direct order from Patrick though. I had the strangest sensation of deja vu that did not waver for those lonely weeks. I was back to where I had started aboard _The Surgence_ , feeling lost and alone with the constant and intrusive reminder of the friends that had died on the very deck I walked along every day.

I'd not really come to terms with my emotions it seemed, for I cried myself to sleep more than once in my time aboard. I hated going to see Patrick in what had once been Mick's cabin so I began to distance myself from that which pained me most; seeing a younger and colder version of Mick in place behind that desk. Try as he might, Patrick could never hope to live up to the reputation that his brother had left behind after his untimely death. Whilst Mick and Patrick shared dashing, dark brooding good looks and a unique kind of charm that only an Irishman can boast of, Patrick lacked a certain type of ... grace, shall we say? Whilst Mick's charm was more careful and considered. There was just that feeling you got when he smiled at you. It was as if that smile was for you and only you. He'd looked into your eyes and really understood you like no one else ever would. It was a smile that told you to trust the man with eyes so sorrowful that it was hard to believe he could think of anyone else when there was clearly such despair in his heart. He did though, every day. Mick barely gave himself a thought.

Patrick could not have been more different. Yes, he was charming alright. I know now that it was for all of the wrong reasons. At sixteen I'd quite liked the danger and the unknown that I saw in him. He was like no one I'd ever met before. Patrick was a schemer though. He was only out for what he could gain for himself. That included women. I'd long since realised that he'd never really felt anything at all for me, not even lust. I'd just been an opportunity, a means to an end. That was how he saw every aspect of life. I'd grown a lot in my six years at sea, and having met a man to which honour meant everything; I was finally able to see just how wrong a man like Patrick would have been for me. I was beginning to consider that even to have him as a friend might be dangerous.

I did not realise how right my instincts would turn out to be if I'm honest. I thought I was just in the throws of dealing with my separation from James. I was actually annoyed with myself for comparing the men I'd met in my life to one another. It was a mark of how lost and out of place I felt that I was setting them against one another in my mind. I suppose it's proof of the growing respect I had for James that I no longer considered Patrick to be someone I'd call a friend. James was ten times the man Patrick was and there was no way for me to think otherwise. I'd been spending a lot of time out of the way in the galley with the cook, Mr. Doyle. who was like many older men I'd come across back home and although I'd never met my mother's father, I'd heard enough stories to know that he'd have found a kindred spirit in Mr. Doyle. It was Mr. Doyle's stark warnings to me to lock my cabin door not just at night but also during the day when I had returned there that made me a little more uneasy. He also warned me about Patrick. Although Mr. Doyle claimed to like my old friend well enough, he wasn't sure how Patrick might handle someone like myself. He'd seen how Patrick behaved when he made port after all. I already knew that Patrick was a bit of a womaniser. How could I not when he looked the way he did.

It appeared men were not entirely immune to Patrick's charms either. In calm waters one morning we met with the sight of much larger vessels attacking a merchant ship only two leagues away. The smart thing to do was to skirt around the battle entirely, or to turn and sail back the way we had come. Patrick did neither of those things though. That had the hackles on the back of my neck rising as he gave the order that we would approach with caution. We should not have been approaching at all in my book. The merchant ship was taking a battering from both sides and the chances were we'd meet the same end if we intervened. I rushed to Patrick's side to try and plead with him to turn _The Grace_ back around but my words died on my lips. There was such determination in Patrick's eyes that if I'd not known we'd stumbled across such a battle by accident; I'd be inclined to think he'd planned it all. from his position at the helm he called out orders that we were not to open fire upon any ship as we approached.

I felt a sudden irrational fear flit through me as I realised that no one would really be able to talk Patrick out of it. He was the type of man that settled upon a plan and acted almost immediately. My instinct was to go below decks and sit it out because I'd no desire to be involved in the sinking of any ship but something caught my eye before I could turn. The sight of English flags flying from the masts of all of the ships was certainly a strange sight, as there was surely no reason for any of them to mount an attack. I grabbed Patrick's spyglass from where he'd hooked it on his belt and used it to get a closer look. The name emblazoned along the stern of one of the larger ships had me cursing Patrick every which way. _The King's Inquisitor_ launched a volley of cannon fire into the port side of the little merchant ship as the Viscount's fleet hemmed it in. There would be no escape for the lowly sailors. We were likely to face the same fate if we entered the fray but Patrick didn't seem to be worried at all.

Patrick gave the order to fire warning cannon and yet again I had the overwhelming urge to make myself scarce. He seemed to read my thoughts. Patrick gripped my arm tightly and I immediately tried to pry it out of his grip.

"I need you on deck Fiona. Remember what I said when I took you on. You're just a regular member of my crew and there'll be no favouritism on my part. If you hide below then none of my crew are going to have any respect for you whatsoever! Is that how you want to sail; with everyone thinking you're a joke, a lily-livered bit of lace? If they do you won't last long. You've never been one to shy away from trouble so stay put!"

I was still trying to pry my arm free, sure that my place was suddenly with Mr. Doyle in the galley where he could block the doors with the heavy barrels of water and rum. "Patrick you're going to get us all killed! Don't you know who that is? That's Viscount Townshend! He has a fleet Patrick; a whole fleet! It'll be a miracle if he doesn't turn on us after he's done with that ship! Perhaps he might take consideration of the fact that this ship might satisfy your debts!"

Something in Patrick's demeanour changed slightly and I thought it might be apprehension that washed over him. "Find me pistols," he whispered softly as he let go of me.

His attention was upon the crew then as they began to prepare for attack. I moved swiftly towards the Captain's cabin where I knew Patrick kept his own pistols even though I did not want to follow orders. I did not want to go back up on deck to bring Patrick his pistols, but I had little choice in the matter really. I stopped in the doorway and sniffed the stale air. I'd thought the cabin might resemble Mick in some way still, that there might be some semblance of him remaining there especially as Patrick was above decks and not infusing the air around me. Mick was gone though. I could no longer pull thoughts of him from the cabin as I had been able to do before. It was as if Mick had finally parted ways with his beloved ship that I'd thought I'd always associate with him. Perhaps it was a mark of how much disdain I was beginning to hold Patrick and his actions in that I'd finally realised that the ship was nothing without the friend I'd loved so much. Without Mick, _The Grace_ was no longer my home but a vessel for all of my desperate and dark thoughts that would ruin me if I let them take over my mind.

The ship shuddered with the force of more cannons firing and I cursed Patrick in my head as I debated what to do. I saw his pistol brace hanging from a hook just beyond the door and reached up to grab it, surmising that even if I did not hand it over to Patrick, I might have need of a pistol myself. Just as I took the brace from the hook and took the weight of it fully into my hands I swayed a little and the room swam out of focus. My knees buckled and I slid down to sit against the door as a vice like grip clamped down upon my chest. The pistol brace tumbled from my hands as my grip of it went slack and I began to float away from the room, a new feeling of terror washing over me.

 _The woman that I saw upon the deck was frightened, perhaps as much as I was. When she turned to me with those wild and grief-filled eyes I had the sudden urge to comfort her. There was an overwhelming familiarity between us both this time and I knew that she could sense me with her. I wanted to take her hand in mine because she looked so sorrowful, but I heard the approach of another body. I sucked in a painful breath and turned towards the sound, not entirely sure what sight was about to meet my eyes. Whatever I'd been expecting, the troubled man with eyes as sad as the woman's was not it. He held his hand out towards her and she recoiled from his touch but there was no malicious intent there. He too wished to comfort the woman that I was increasingly feeling so in tune with._

 _"I am sorry my dear, that we ever did speak of you to anyone. I am sorry that we ever told of your beauty. I am sorry that your uncle will never himself know the beauty I have told him of so many times-"_

 _"This is your attempt to make amends; to comfort me?" The woman's interruption sparked a curiosity within me. I'd heard her speak only once before and this time her words were as sharp and cold as a knife's edge. I could feel her anger, her despair and her terror. "I am to be thrown to the wolves to satisfy those you yourself have offended. I am to die in this way for the thoughtlessness of my own mother and father. Yet all that pains you is your own stupidity. You shall live on long after I am gone in the knowledge that you have done all of this. If it were not my uncle you thrust me under the nose of, it would have been another. You never considered my wishes; my heart. You thought only of your own attainments in this world and the next. What shall my attainments be father? I ask you that, because I do not think you will have given it thought. You think that this is your sacrifice, but it is mine. I am called to my death to save something much more sacred and precious than the love between a father and his daughter. I will know that as I pass on, I am saving the lives of others. Without such knowledge I fear I would lose my mind."_

 _The woman was shaking. Even the delicate red curls of her hair seemed to shimmer as she failed to control the trembling that wracked her body. I wanted to reach out and place my hand upon her arm to show her that she was not alone, that I felt everything she was experiencing in that moment. before I could do so though, a second man approached. The knife he carried had me patting my waist for my own weapon in haste as it was clear he was intent upon reaching the woman. I was too late. The man nodded once to the woman's father before he grabbed a fistful of the fine silk of the woman's ivory dress and tore through it. He ripped at the dress as the woman closed her eyes against the tears threatening to fall. She looked as if she were gravely ill. I could feel her humiliation as the dress was pulled abruptly from her skin and thrown overboard. She stood on deck with every man able to gawk at her nakedness. She brought one trembling arm up to try and shield her breasts whilst her other hand fell to the junction of her thighs._

 _The man with the knife moved away again, and I was overwhelmed by how alone and humiliated the woman felt as she stood alone before her father; and yet she longed to let go of her despair and anger. She longed for that release that would also serve to benefit her father. "I forgive you..." she whispered so quietly to him that no one else aboard would hear. I heard it though. It was as if the words came from my own lips. I felt the love the woman still held for her father, and her wishes and desires that he'd live to prove himself the good man she knew him to be. She loved him still, despite everything._

 _Such sentiments served to be his undoing. His face was twisted in anguish as he turned his face away. I sensed what might be about to happen, but the woman before me was oblivious. Her father spoke in a forceful whisper even though he could not bring himself to look upon his daughter again. "Go now! Flee before they bring out the chains. Let the sea carry you off!" The woman did not move. A swift notion of defiance was beginning to build within me and I realised the woman was going to stay exactly where she was. I lurched forward, wanting to echo her father's sentiments but any shout I gave held no sound. She could not hear me, but I knew that she knew I was there. She had sensed me earlier. I willed her in my mind to take her leave whilst she could even though I had no knowledge of whether my thoughts would carry. She threw her father a pained glance before she turned out towards the sea and I turned with her. We both glimpsed the rock on the horizon and willed it not to come closer, but we were gaining on it all the while. "MOVE! NOW! LEAVE THIS SHIP NOW!"_

 _Her father's warning came to late. Her limbs she was using to shield her body were grasped by the other man and pulled out and away from her body. her wrists were encased in shackles and I saw the fear in her eyes even as she willingly let them drag her across the deck by her chains. I wanted so much to reach out to her yet again and tell her that this was not to be her end. I wanted to tell her that a man was coming, a good man who would take her away from it all. As if she sensed my urgency, she glanced back over her shoulder towards me, but in that moment the vision was beginning to fade rapidly. I called to her soundlessly again just as I felt hands upon my own shoulders shaking me awake._

I stared blearily up into the eyes of Mr. Doyle as he pulled me back up onto my feet. "What are you doing here lass? You should be hiding somewhere!"

I shook my head vehemently. "I'm no coward. As much as I think we're all doomed I'm not going to hide!"

"Well then you're going to have to make a swim for it! You aren't dying on this ship! You need to move, now!"

My mind jarred. Something or someone was telling me to find a way off _The Grace_ and into the water. Where would I go if I managed such an escape though? I stared at Mr. Doyle curiously as if he might hold the answer but he simply gazed back at me in puzzlement. I grabbed the pistol brace I'd dropped to the floor and moved with him silently through the narrow corridor until we reached the deck again. We stood and listened for a long while but the roar of cannon fire had stopped altogether. As far as I could tell the ship was still moving, so we'd not reached the other ships yet. Eventually I moved, letting Mr. Doyle follow behind me as I skirted along the railings in an attempt to make it to the bow. If I could reach the highest deck of the ship, I stood the best chance of observing what was about to happen. If I really did need to get off the ship quickly as Mr. Doyle thought I would, I'd have to jump.

We'd reached the quarterdeck successfully without being discovered and I breathed a sigh of relief. It appeared that all eyes were for the other ships and not us. Our predicament though was to get past the man at the helm and on towards the poop deck. We crouched on the steps for a few moments as I tried to think of a way around the man but either way he was likely to see us. I decided that my best bet was to just make a run for it. I would certainly be seen no matter how quickly I moved. I might manage to get to the bow alone, but Mr. Doyle following behind me didn't have much chance of not getting caught. Once one of us had been seen, the game would be up. I knew then that I had to send him back down below decks before I moved so that he wouldn't be caught trying to help me. I turned around to tell him as much and realised I was a fraction of a second too late. Strong hands pulled us both roughly to our feet again and I fought against them even though I knew my attempts were futile. Patrick had chosen his crew not for their stealth or their agility as sailors, but for their size. Even Mr. Doyle's height made him an imposing figure until I got to know him a little better. The two men that held me didn't have much of a fight on their hands to hold me in place between them until we reached Patrick's side.

I was still shouting and kicking in attempt to free myself, but the look of disdain that Patrick threw me stopped my useless attempts. "Of all the people in the world Fiona, I never thought you'd be the one to run out on me! I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that!" His hand reached up to grab my chin and turn my face towards him, but I yanked my head backwards out of his reach. "Let her go. She'll not run from my side."

I was released and I stumbled a little as I found my own feet again. Patrick turned back towards _The King's inquisitor_ that we'd now come alongside. Patrick called the order to weigh anchor and the crew set to it. For a time we were not noticed by the Viscount and his crew but he knew we were there alright. He'd have been informed of our approach. He'd not acted though and that sent the chimes of a warning bell through my mind. If he'd not been expecting us, then he certainly knew Patrick well enough to recognise him. That was why he'd not opened fire upon us.

I glanced about me as I assessed how quickly I might be able to make an escape but one of the men who'd hauled me to Patrick's side was still standing close by, watching my every movement. I had no choice but to wait it out. The Viscount was negotiating with the crew of the small merchant ship who all appeared exhausted and defeated. The young man who had stepped forward to engage with Viscount Townshend was bedraggled and very clearly injured. A nasty blow to the head had left an open wound and a droplet of blood was slowly trickling down the side of his face. There was such disappointment in his eyes though and I wondered why he'd ever thought that he'd have stood a chance against the Viscount and his fleet. The other ships had retreated when they'd ascertained that there was no trouble afoot, leaving _The King's inquisitor_ and the Viscount to it.

Whatever negotiation took place, it left the merchant ship in rather a bad position. They'd need to make repairs quickly. In calm waters such as the ones we were currently in they would likely last a fair few days, giving them enough time perhaps but if the wind picked up suddenly as it so often did, they'd have trouble. Added to all of that, Viscount Townshend was availing them of all of their supplies. Even the barrels of water were being carried across a thin stretch of wood onto The King's Inquisitor. I felt a pang of sympathy for the men aboard the merchant ship and sent up a prayer that the waters and the winds would remain calm until they could reach port to make their repairs and replenish supplies. The young dark haired man had returned to his own ship reluctantly and was watching the last barrel of water leave his deck. When his eyes turned to assess us across the three ship decks, something within me stirred. It was almost as if I knew him. The eyes were keen and alight with something stronger than disappointment or despair. He was not so downhearted by the ransacking of his ship. He'd sail her carefully and truly until they reached port. They'd be fine, I realised.

Still, his gaze lingered. Patrick stood his ground, staring back at the man with determination but I squirmed a little as the warm brown eyes raked over my form. I'd piqued his interest somehow and I couldn't fathom why. His direct gaze had caught the attention of the Viscount. He finally turned towards us and it was me he noticed first. The surprised grin he threw my way sent shivers down my spine. He too raked his eyes over my form before he eventually acknowledged Patrick with a nod of his head. He was moving then, crossing the deck of his own ship towards us as the merchant ship freed it's anchor and cast off as quickly as they could.

"Mr. O'Malley. It's good to see you again, and in possession of a ship that sails, finally." Viscount Townshend stopped only when he reached the railings of his ship, standing directly opposite us. I wanted so badly to snap at him and tell him him that it was not Patrick's ship at all, that it always would belong to Mick, but I stayed quiet. I had begun to feel that Patrick's memory was no longer attached to _The Grace_ after all, and I did not know how such an outburst would go down in my present company. I was sure that Viscount Townshend would take a sickening kind of pleasure from my ferocity but Patrick would not appreciate it at all.

"It's been a long time coming," Patrick replied after a hesitation. He threw me a sharp glare before he continued. "This was my brother's ship before he passed on, and I'm glad to be at the helm of it. You know very well that I did not pay any fee for such a ship and only incurred costs for the repairs that were required. I did not consider it a bad move even though I still owe you a great deal, my lord. I simply came to the conclusion that to sail aboard _The Grace_ and to use her as a means to earning a profit was a more beneficial course of action."

I felt a knot of nerves begin to grow in my stomach. Patrick owed the Viscount money, so this meeting was not going to end well. I understood then that I was just the same as I'd ever been to Patrick. I was a commodity, and a disposable one at that.

The Viscount nodded agreeably. "I think you've considered things well, Mr. O'Malley. Though I suppose it's Captain O'Malley now isn't it? She's a strong ship it seems. Rest assured I have no intention of taking her from you as repayment. She's far too small a vessel to be of interest to me. You will have ascertained I'm sure; that my fleet consists of larger ships, some of them decommissioned navy ones. Your little ship would only be wasted amongst them."

"I'm glad," Patrick replied as he seemed to release some of the tension from his shoulders. Had he really been worried that the Viscount might take _The Grace_ from him? Just how in debt was he? I did not miss the Viscount's implied slight too. Personally I considered _The Grace_ a better bet than most smaller navy vessels. She was quiet and small, and yet so full of life and soul. I'd always felt so safe and protected aboard her and she'd weathered so many storms. Perhaps that had been Mick's doing though. Perhaps I was right in my recent revelations that the ship really was just wood and nails. The soul and energy that had been so prominent in the past had likely been because Mick had been such a decent man and a good Captain. His crew had loved him unconditionally and he'd loved them in return. He'd created an escape; a happy place for those who were no longer able to bear life in Ireland. It had all been Mick, and with his death those reassurances and dreams had slowly ebbed away, leaving the shell of a ship behind.

"Speaking of navy ships," the Viscount continued as his gaze strayed to myself again. "I see you have vacated _The Surgence_ Miss O'Connell? Commodore Norrington was not able to see you safely home then after all?"

Patrick spoke up again quickly, clearly anxious that I did not speak. "You've met before? well...Fiona and I have known one another for years. What with her sailing with my brother for such a long time, I thought it only right that I take her on myself and see her safely to wherever it is that she wishes to go. She's an accomplished sailor so she's been of aid."

Viscount Townshend was watching me carefully whilst Patrick spoke, his attention riveted by the movement of my hair in the wind. I wanted to reach my hands up and clamp them down on top of my hair to stop the movement, but I didn't want him to know that his gaze had riled me so I balled my hands into fists at my sides. "How curious." The Viscount spoke to Patrick without taking his eyes off me. "You are not the only Captain in recent times to give such glowing praise of this young woman. I am assured by my own personal experience that she has a sharp tongue and the wits to match. I wonder how well she adapts to life as a subordinate with such an obstinate personality."

I clamped my jaw shut even as I felt the outburst growing within my chest. I was sure that I needed to keep my mouth shut in order to maintain some semblance of dignity and to get myself out of such a situation unscathed. "She has her moments," Patrick replied stiffly as he too wondered where the conversation was going. "We all do though. It's been nice to have a woman's touch aboard the ship again."

Viscount Townshend chuckled. "Rotten luck that can be though."

"Only if you cross me!" I blurted out haughtily before I could stop myself. Is it possible for eyes to grin? I thought his did in that moment as he glanced between myself and Patrick.

"Perhaps you might consider a proposition I have to make Mr. O'Malley?"

I was backing away before he'd even finished his sentence. I shook my head at him, my gaze swinging towards Patrick in the hope that I'd find reluctance to acquiesce. "What kind of proposition?" Patrick sounded as if he had no idea what the Viscount was asking him and I thought perhaps he might have been stalling for time so that he could figure out a way out of our predicament.

Viscount Townshend's grin widened. "Your friend seems to have caught the gist well enough Mr. O'Malley. Of course I'm asking you if you'd consider settling your debts in the old fashioned way; in the trade of a woman. It's how things were done before there was gold and silver to hammer into coin."

I saw Patrick's shoulders straighten from behind as he rose to his full height. "You'd trade all of my debts for her?"

"PATRICK DON'T YOU DARE!" I snarled as I rushed forward to grab his arm.

"All of your debts," the Viscount confirmed.

* * *

 _ **So what do we think? Will Patrick betray Fiona or will he think of a scheme to help her?**_

 _ **We'll find out in the next chapter!**_


	30. Chapter Thirty - A Decision in Reverse

_**Thanks to Guest for the review! You are certainly on the right track with all of your theories!**_

 _ **Will is back in this chapter, with some news for James. How will he act upon it?**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty - A Decision in Reverse**_

"I'm afraid that's not feasible," Patrick stated in a matter of fact tone. I wanted to breath a sigh of relief, but I held it back. I couldn't dare to believe that Patrick seemed for once to be doing the right thing. Was he actually going to protect me, to keep me with him despite his crushing debts? It didn't fit with my previous experience of his character, but perhaps he had grown up as much as I had in those six years. Perhaps he had become something of the man his brother was. Patrick turned to appraise me carefully. "This woman is worth a lot more than the sum of my debts you see."

I couldn't help the buoyant feeling that rose within my chest then at such a compliment; if it was one. I'd never considered myself as dear to Patrick, but perhaps he had finally decided to have a care towards his brother's memory. Mick would have wanted Patrick to ensure my safety. I had to wonder though, what would befall us now that Patrick had refused the man that he owed so much too.

"How much more?" The Viscount slipped his hand into his coat pocket and rattled what sounded like a purse full of coins. "I've got deep pockets man."

Patrick smirked. "It's as well you have My Lord. This woman is no more Fiona O'Connell than I am!"

"NO PATRICK-"

Patrick continued to talk over me as his hand came up to grip my forearm and hold me in place at his side. "Her name is Niamh Lefroy and she is Sir Malcolm Sidney's niece; the lost one. You want her, then take her, but it'll be you owing me!"

"How on earth do you expect me to believe that?" Viscount Townshend asked as I saw the ghost of a laugh upon his face. "You could place any chit before me and tell me that!"

"Oh there's a rather reliable source that told me so a very long time ago My Lord. Indeed this woman herself will recall that she once visited Tia Dalma upon my recommendation. The meeting did not go well and my brother disapproved but once I'd left his service I sought a way to cause him pain. I returned to Tia Dalma only to hear her assumptions, not thinking that she would entrust to me the knowledge she had gleaned from this woman simply by gazing into her eyes. I realised I had it within my power to out this woman, and therefore cause my brother great pain. It was only in that I'd entirely lost track of him that I found myself prevented from doing so. Now Sir you offer me the opportunity to do said brother's memory irreparable damage."

"Tia Dalma, you say?" The Viscount appeared intrigued as he gently reached up to stroke his beard. I couldn't tell if he believed Patrick or not. "As to whether all of this is true or not boy, I've no idea. Rest assured, if you have lied to me, I will find you out and hunt you down. As for your valuation of this woman, I'm inclined to agree with you in that she is worth more than the sum of your debts. She is a fire cracker after all."

"Then I hope you've readied your kindling," Patrick supplied swiftly. "You may take her off my hands today!"

"What kind of a coward are you?" Mr. Doyle called from where he was still held behind us. "The girl is your family man!"

Like lightening Patrick moved. He'd fired his pistol before I even realised he'd drawn it. Mr. Doyle crumpled and slid to the deck. Bile rose in my throat as I stared at his lifeless face splattered with blood. The back of his head was missing, blown away by the force of the shot. I let out a wail and tried to move from Patrick even as I knew there was no hope for the cook. Patrick used his hold of me to yank me back to his side and I began to hit him, punching and slapping any part of him that I could reach. I only stopped as I felt the still warm steel of the pistol graze the side of my face before Patrick placed the end of the barrel against my temple.

"You are a coward!" I roared. "He was right! What kind of man are you Patrick? You don't deserve this ship or Mick's good name as a stepping ladder! You're an animal!"

I wanted him to shoot me, I realised later. I didn't give much thought to how Patrick had worked out who I was because in the long run it didn't matter that much. In that moment I realised I could not share a ship with Patrick or the Viscount. I wanted to meet death rather than endure it.

"Shut the hell up or so help me God Fiona, I'll blow your brains out like I did his!" I began to struggle against him again whilst I shouted profanities at him in the hopes he would do what he had threatened, but his attention returned to the Viscount. "How much will you give me for her? If you want I can blow her knees off with a few shots, should subdue her a little? Call it an expression of good will!"

"You either shoot me dead or not at all!" I snarled as I grabbed the pistol and pushed it further into the side of my head. The force of it made my eyes water but I cared not for that if it was all to end in a few seconds time.

"What do you take me for?" The Viscount was climbing onto the railings that stood between us. "It'll be ruining all the fun. It'll be myself subduing her man. That's the whole point!"

My heart was beating erratically, and I could think of nothing other than finding some way to end it all before I was thrown to the wolves. "Take her then," Patrick relented. "I'll take that coin purse of yours as a down payment. I'll be sure to recall that you owe me one, My Lord." He pulled the pistol out of my reach and threw it behind him so that even as I made a grab for it, it sailed into the hands of one of his men. I reached up and tried to scratch him then, to harm him in some way as anger drove me to almost madness.

The Viscount was advancing towards us though and I had only seconds to spare. My thoughts flew to the blade at my waist and I reached for the handle. My fingers closed around the hilt, brushing over the emeralds set there as I recalled their glimmer without even having to look at them. They reminded me so much of a pair of eyes, a pair of eyes that had once made me think so much of home. I'd think on that and nothing else as I took my last breath for I felt there was only one person who could settle such a sense of peace and calmness over me.

I felt a hand clamping around my own that held the hilt even as I backed away from everyone else. No one was close enough to touch me and yet something was forcing the blade to remain where it was. I pushed against it as I began to panic. The wind caught my hair, blowing it all onto one side of my head. I felt a gentle breeze curl around the exposed skin of my neck before it floated upwards.

 _"Do not be afraid to use it...It is as much yours as it is mine. It answers your call also..."_

I jumped as the voice whispered consolingly in my ear. I turned on one foot to search for the speaker but of course he was not there. My hand came up to rest against my temple as so many voices invaded my mind. There was cannon fire and shouting along with the firing of muskets. I could make none of it out as I stared around at the serene waters that surrounded us and the crews of both ships who all watched on avidly. Nothing was stirring and yet the din made my head feel like it was going to explode. I tried to picture those eyes again to calm myself. They were sparkling with something strange as I envisioned them in my mind, as if they knew something I did not.

 _"Do not let go my hand...We will find a way out of this melee..."_

The wind picked up and the masts creaked with the force of it. The sails snapped above us as the water began to churn beneath us.

"What the hell is that?" Patrick cried as they all turned their attentions towards the sky.

The other worldly sounds were gone. All that I could hear were my own hurried breaths, my heart racing. They said the Irish were prone to bouts of madness and in those few seconds I thought I had succumbed. I had thought I'd heard James so plainly that he had to have been only a few inches from me, but he was not there. He was leagues away. I tried to think of the voice again even as it felt as if the wind was carrying it away. I wanted to hear it again, to feel that reassurance. James would not have wanted me to kill myself. He would have made some nondescript monosyllabic statement about there being some other way around it all. Of course there was, but I'd not thought of it. The hand holding mine squeezed as if in agreement with my thoughts and then relinquished it's hold. I felt bereft without it immediately, but I knew what I had to do. I was able to recall things easily that I'd not looked upon in years. Surely I could recall the layout of _The King's Inquisitor_ once I'd been taken aboard. I'd find my way out and I'd dive into the ocean that had always held so much promise for me. It would not desert me. It had not when I'd stood on that beach back in Ireland, and certainly not when _The Grace_ had run aground on those rocks and my friends had been killed.

 _"If you are claimed by another, then he cannot touch you. He would have no right..."_

The voice was much quieter this time, as if afraid of being overheard. Again I looked about me but I could see no one that I trusted enough to speak so softly to me. Was it the sea again; showing me a path? If the sea claimed me, then the Viscount could not have me. Or perhaps it was I who needed to claim myself. I needed to remember who I was and where I was from. I was born with a fighting spirit and it had served me well over the years. Perhaps he could not have me if I were to claim myself back from the brink.

"The devil with this weather," Patrick snarled. "Take her and we can both be on our way!"

I heard the clinking of coin as the Viscount threw his coin purse to Patrick and approached me. He was a bigger man than Patrick and I knew I'd tire myself out if I fought, but fight I did. "You'll not break me!" I pummelled his chest as he dragged me across the deck. "I can't be broken! You see I already have been broken and so I'm in the beyond now! I'm on borrowed time now so you can't do anything to me! I'm free!"

"Just a moment..." Patrick was approaching us across the deck. I was so unnerved by the look in his eyes then that I stopped struggling. "This one's been a part of my life for a long time now. I've bedded her more than once and she willed it. She's got a spirit the likes of which I've never met in another soul. I'd be that grateful if you'd give me a moment to say farewell to the wanton child I knew before she grew a head of sense. One more feel of her before you break her in is all I ask. After all, you'll let all of your crew tear her apart once you're through with her. What's the harm in me having one last go?"

I spat angrily at Patrick as I was shoved towards him. The Viscount seemed to have no notions of laying claim to my ownership at all. That made things all the worse. Patrick grabbed me roughly, his hands trailing up and down my sides as he drank me in. His hand moved upwards suddenly and I thought for a second that he was going to grab my breast, but instead it toyed with the collar of my shirt. He pulled free the gold chain that I'd replaced there only that morning. Patrick let out a chuckle. "You don't know what this is do you? You've carried it around with you all these years and you've never once thought that it might be the reason you've found yourself in so much trouble. This little lump of gold is worth more than Townshend's fleet. Do you know, every time it lands in the ocean, it sends out ripples. It possesses a gift that rivals all in the world, and yet no one knows just what it does." With a yank Patrick broke the chain and the necklace fell into his palm. "Perhaps I'll keep it safe for ya."

"I hope you burn in hell," I whispered to him.

He laughed again and rolled his eyes at Viscount Townshend. "Hug me!" His hurried whisper and pleading eyes did not at first entice me to believe that he might have some sort of plan at all. I tried to pull away from him even as he forced his stern gaze upon mine with a clear urgency. "Damn it Fiona, hold onto me and beg me not to give you over to him. Do it woman and damn your pride!"

I did as I was told even though I couldn't be sure if he was trying to trick me or not for his own amusement. "Please Patrick..." I let a sob escape my throat even though I cried no tears. "Don't hand me over to him. You know what we had once, we can have it again. Take me any way you want me, I'll do anything and everything for you if you'll just keep me!"

I did not know if my words were loud enough to carry for I did not dare to look behind me towards Viscount Townshend. Patrick chuckled merrily and grabbed my behind roughly, pulling me flush against his own body. I was clinging to him desperately even though I had no idea what he was planning. "Fiona I'm so sorry, but you're going to have to go with him. Townshend has maps..." Patrick's whisper was barely discernible beneath my layers of curls and I had to twist my head around under the pretence of nestling closer to him to hear properly. "I need you to look at those maps and keep them in that marvellous mind of yours. Those maps could lead us to greater treasure than you can imagine; even more than your precious necklace which I will keep safe for you. Just keep an eye out for darkness for that's when I'll be back for you. Don't give the game away before then for God's sake. I swear I'll come for you, but you'll have to handle him on your own for an hour or two. Now start wailing and bawling. Make this look convincing."

I did as I was told again even though I still felt I could be risking everything in believing Patrick's words. After all, he had shot Mr. Doyle in front of us all. I gripped his shirt tightly, wailing as the old women did at funerals and wakes back in Ireland in what is one of the most annoying and disturbing sounds known to man. I clung on even as Patrick tried to fight me off. When he finally succeeded I let him push me away from his chest and I made a grab for his waist, sinking down onto my knees as I let real tears fall. They might have provided the guise of a distressed woman who wanted to save her own skin, but they were real because I had no notion of just what Patrick was doing. He might be lying so that I let myself be taken, or he might simply want Townshend to know how cut throat he was. If the man was impressed, I do not know. Patrick eventually managed to prise my grip off him and he threw me back towards the Viscount.

"Jaysus, take her! I don't want some blubbering mess beneath me. You'll not try to renege on our negotiations My Lord now that she's lost her wits. She might not take so much breaking in now she's desperate! Be wary of her or those pretty eyes of hers might lure you in as a mermaid is said to do!"

I was hefted over the railings and dropped unceremoniously upon the deck of T _he King's Inquisitor._ Viscount Townshend climbed across afterwards and dragged me back onto my feet by the collar of my shirt. "We'll see how you feel about me after a few days in the brig, shall we! I'll wager you'll think more kindly towards me once I have rescued you from it." He turned back towards Patrick then who was giving the orders for his crew to cast off. "Nice doing business with you Captain O'Malley!"

"YOU'RE A FECKING COWARD PATRICK!" A yell tore from my throat. "I'D TELL YOU TO TAKE A CURSE BACK WITH YOU BUT YOU AREN'T EVEN WORTH IT!"

I can imagine all I want that James must have been feeling my absence in some way and I can certainly listen to him as he tells me it was so, but I'll never really know the truth. I won't know if he really thought as much of me back then as I did him. Certainly, both of us had considered that our chances of meeting again were in some ways slim. If I was really going to try and find my way back to Ireland, there was no reason for him to ever hope to meet with me again. I certainly never thought I'd be lucky enough to be in his presence again. Even if we were to meet, would circumstances be the same? Would he greet me as pleasantly as he left me? Of course if he had a woman on his arm by that point then he would be well within his rights to ignore me completely. I wouldn't blame him for such a reaction for what well-to-do lady would want their husband associating with the likes of me? No, I'd decided that if such an occurrence ever came to pass that I'd be happy for him. After all, of all of the men in the world he was the one that I thought deserved some happiness. The question was, would he be brave enough to welcome it?

He was set in his ways it seems, for he had an objective within a few days of leaving me behind in Rio. He says it was my doing, that I instilled within him some sense of purpose that he had lost over the course of his suffering. He had a sudden epiphany in regards to his own beliefs. He reevaluated them and found them wanting. He'd grown greedy and somewhat careless in his grief. He had lost sight of all that was right in the world. Thus he determined that he owed the world something. He owed it to the world to rid the seas of evil men whether they were pirates or not. If he had not had such a consideration, he might not have found himself one day coming across the path of an almost destroyed merchant ship inching it's way towards port ever so slowly. James was hesitant in the beginning. It was late afternoon and light would soon begin to fade. If the merchant ship was in fact a well conceived trap then James would leave little to chance in chasing it down. By the time they reached it and ascertained it's intent in those waters they would be losing light rapidly.

A storm was brewing. James could feel it in the moistness of the air around him. If the ship was truly damaged almost beyond repair then the crew could not hope to withstand a storm if it came their way. They were still at least a day's sail from Port Royal after all. James made the decision that they should approach with caution and he himself remained at the helm to be sure that he was ready to about turn if need be. He needn't have had such worries. The little merchant ship flew no colours for it's own safety but it was no danger to anyone else. Indeed it was captained by the last person James had expected to see aboard. Will Turner doffed his hat to James as _The Surgence_ reached the merchant ship's port side. With only a skeleton crew remaining alive, James found it readily easy to encourage the merchant crew to board _The Surgence_ in light of the approaching storm. Will Turner took some persuading though. James came to understand that was because Turner wanted to return home to his wife in hopes that her father might find another ship for him to sail aboard.

"I did not want to be captain any more than the rest of the crew did," Will supplied as he took a seat opposite James at the dinning table in the Captain's cabin. "We all saw the end that befell our late captain only this morning. All of the men were worried that we would be ambushed again. No one wants to be Captain of a doomed ship."

"I am curious Mr. Turner, as to how badly the other ship was damaged? Your ship is so small that I'm not entirely sure why it isn't currently resting at the bottom of the ocean."

Will Turner shrugged. "We got lucky in that we were the lesser distraction. A slightly larger ship came along and Viscount Townshend and his men clearly thought they were more worth tackling. That's how we managed to sail away with the ship still afloat and only just. Though I am inclined to think that the Viscount was more agreeable to negotiation with the captain of the other ship. Indeed I saw them talking as we were sailing away."

"Viscount Townshend?" Somehow I do not think James was that shocked to hear that a peer of the realm was ransacking ships. "What on earth were you carrying that would have entertained him?"

"That's just it," Will continued. "We weren't carrying much besides cotton."

James cleared his throat heavily. "So that is your trade now is it? You have given up on the piracy and you are now a cotton merchant? It is a curious trade to leave behind your wife and blacksmith's forge for. I do wonder that you haven't a notion of what you left behind Mr. Turner."

I don't think it went unnoticed with Mr. Turner that he had not been offered a drink as he sat down. It was clear to him that despite James's pleasantries towards him, there was still an undercurrent of jealousy and anger there. Will had taken the woman that James loved, after all. Those feelings did not just vanish over night. Wasn't Will struggling with his own emotions in being so far away from his wife? He knew what it was like to love a woman like Elizabeth even when leagues of ocean separated him from her. He was barely able to justify it to himself that he only left Port Royal to ensure that Elizabeth and her father remained safe. If he was arrested as Cutler Beckett had ordered, Elizabeth and Governor Swann could be dragged into it all. Better house arrest than potentially facing the hangman's noose for helping a pirate.

Of course, James knew none of this. I think he felt like Will was mocking him. In James's eyes Will had married the greatest treasure that the world had to offer and had embarked upon a sea voyage shortly afterwards. In his mind it didn't bode well for their marriage of love. What protection could Will provide for Elizabeth from so far away? At best he was a humble blacksmith with only himself to offer up as protection. James had fleets of ships and garrisons full of men. He could have installed Elizabeth in the Commodore's residence and her father too if it came to it. They'd have been in the most protected and fortified home on the whole island.

But was that love? Shelter and protection was certainly care beyond measure but was Elizabeth the type of person to let herself be shut up like that? Would she not have resented him for doing so? At the very least she would have resented him in not listening to any advice her father had to offer. Governor Swann might be an aristocrat but he'd had a good education and he knew enough about strategy to offer up competent and rational opinions when they were required. Elizabeth would have wanted her father to feel appreciated. James had concluded in those few short seconds that he was no longer that person. As Commodore he was expected to know his own mind and make his own decisions. Although James liked Governor Swann very much and did appreciate all of his past advice, he could no longer be so influenced by a man who'd never had charge of a ship in his life. If he really did want to make admiral he would have to shed such flaws. He would have to prove himself worthy to lead a fleet of ships more so even than he was already. He would have to make decisions that mattered and sailing headlong into hurricanes could not be one of them. He could no longer be blinded by love and appreciation in such matters. That was of course, as long as he still wanted to make admiral.

When Will finally found the courage to speak, James was surprised to hear steel in his voice. "Surely you know Commodore of Cutler Beckett who is currently governing Port Royal and the East India Company with an iron fist. He ordered my arrest and so I am here. If I had not left I'd have been placing Elizabeth and her father in inconceivable danger. Elizabeth will have the peace of mind that the sea may protect me. I am far safer here than in Port Royal. That is why I shied away from the role as Captain. I did not want to take up such a role and bring attention to myself. I was trying to conceive a way to oust Cutler Beckett from power but as yet I have come up short. Perhaps you might be able to help with that Commodore?"

"What is Cutler Beckett to me, Mr. Turner?" James felt antagonised by Will's abrupt passing of the buck. "Why should I step in and undermine a senior partner of the company? It is tantamount to gross miss-conduct. I would be vilified and persecuted for such actions. I would never make admiral!"

"You wouldn't even do it for the woman that you claim to love?"

Will's words echoed throughout the cabin and James actually took stock of them. There was a time when he considered he'd have done anything for Elizabeth, but certainly not as rashly as Will Turner had done in helping Jack Sparrow commandeer a ship. No, perhaps James had been blind all of that time to the fact that he could not have loved Elizabeth, or at least certainly not as much as Will had done. He had heard it said that love drove people to madness, and perhaps he had been mad with grief for some time. He had not been mad enough to fight for the woman he loved though.

"Mr. Turner, you speak of love as if it is a convenience. Without my position in the navy I could not have hoped to even entertain thoughts of a marriage to someone like the woman who is now your wife. Even with it, I failed to succeed there. Please forgive me if I consider any feelings I had towards Mrs. Turner a moot point. Indeed when I visited Port Royal some months ago it was your wife I spoke with first and she asked me to relay a message to you; to find you if I could. I already had a commission but I promised that if I saw you I would inform you that Cutler Beckett was in pursuit of Jack Sparrow. I believe Mrs. Turner had thought you might be with him, but Mr. Sparrow and his crew were captured and did spend a fair few months convalescing in the brig of my ship before being deposited into the hands of the authorities in Rio de Janeiro. Thus there is no fear of you ever coming into contact with him."

"And you really expect Jack to sit tight whilst charges are raised against him? I'd expect he's already escaped. He's jack Sparrow after all." It was a mark of the fact that James had heard nothing of Jack Sparrow since leaving Rio that he could find no reply to make to Will. Will appeared a little exasperated even though he was certain of his friend's fate. "Don't you think this is all rather a coincidence though," Will continued sharply as he stared at James. "That You've been given this knowledge about Beckett and have not acted upon it, when Beckett's man was the one who almost blew my ship out of the water. The Viscount and Beckett know each other very well. I have heard tell that Townshend got his very commission from Beckett. When I first saw _The King's inquisitor_ on the horizon I thought that Townshend had come for me on Beckett's orders. It appears he was not given a good enough description of my appearance though for he did not know me. As I said though, he was far more interested in the crew of the other ship. I'd not be surprised if that ship lies on the sea bed now along with it's crew."

James turned away from him then to gaze out of the window. "This was only this morning, you say? You seem certain that this other merchant ship will not have survived?" James stood then and motioned for Will to follow him out of the cabin.

"The Viscount has a fleet," Will replied with a shrug as they walked. They emerged onto deck as the sun was setting and they both felt the incoming storm in the air.

James approached the railings on the main deck and stared out at the horizon for a few moments as if expecting to see something emerge there. "So there's little chance of us finding any of it's crew alive if we sail in that direction? How far have you managed to sail in your wreck of a ship?"

"We were managing about three knots an hour by the last count, which is good speed when all of the damage is considered Commodore. As for crew, I'm not sure. There was only one I saw crossing over onto the deck of _The King's inquisitor_ and I'm not sure what became of them. That was the last thing I saw before we lost sight of them altogether. Though what business the woman might have aboard-"

"Woman?" James turned on his heel swiftly to gaze at Will intently. "What woman?"

"Did I not mention her?"

James turned to share a confused glance with Gillette who had come up behind them. "Did she board _The King's Inquisitor_ of her own accord?" Gillette asked curiously.

Will shook his head. "I could not see clearly. I was watching through my spyglass to ensure that no ships from Townshend's fleet made to follow us. I only know it was the woman because I saw her aboard the other ship before we cast off again. I only really knew it was her because of the hair-"

"Red hair?" James barked hastily.

Will frowned. "Vividly red hair." He must have seen something in James's expression. "You know her?"

James nodded slowly. "Miss Fiona O'Connell I think, if she was a young woman?"

"No older than I am myself," Will supplied.

"She was sailing with Sparrow when we came across _The Black Pearl_. She sailed with us for some months before I left her in the care of an old friend. We did meet with Viscount Townshend before we made port in Rio de Janeiro and she was of interest to him. I thought though that there was not likely to be another occurrence of them ever meeting again. I also thought the friend she was left in the care of would have protected her from such a man. I think she believed that too. If I had known there was the possibility of anything like this happening, I'd have kept her aboard _The Surgence_."

"I pity her then," Will murmured.

"Sir I think you must consider that Miss O'Connell is not the only woman with such a shade of hair upon the seas. You will well recall the ship that attacked us in open waters some time ago. I believe Miss O'Connell herself confirmed that ship was in fact captained by another woman of a similar appearance, if a little older. I ask that you consider all of that before you give orders. Commodore Sir, orders?" Gillette was hovering whilst he watched the storm clouds overhead blacken.

"What is our progress Gillette?"

"On course to reach Port Royal this time tomorrow evening Sir. We had not accounted for this storm though. It might hinder us but we could outrun it."

James stared up at the sky darkening sky as a feeling of dread grew within his stomach. He knew he should not be risking the lives of his men by sailing into another storm; not when they were so close to making port. He knew though that I would not fare well at all aboard _The King's Inquisitor_. He has never told me so, but I think he was worried even as he stood with Will Turner that I could already be dead. That was not a risk he should think of taking. He did not know how far Viscount Townshend might have travelled with me aboard if I was still alive, or if I'd in fact made it back aboard _The Grace_ after Mr. Turner had lost sight of us.

He had been striving only a short time ago to endeavour to be the kind of man that made decisions that mattered, and to put the lives of his crew first. There he was though, with his mind battling itself. He wanted to come after me because he felt I was his responsibility. I've told him countless times that was never the case but there's no arguing with breeding. He was brought up that way and it's almost ingrained within him. He's a gentleman which I appreciate, but how was he to know if I wanted him to come after me or not? He was so conflicted that Gillette called to him a few times before James stirred again.

"Sir how could you have known that this might happen. Miss O'Connell willingly left our company for that of her friends. How are we to know what befell her out upon the sea. She might have found her way back to her friends long before now. Perhaps to think of sailing out in search of her is a rather rash choice Sir, especially given the storm."

James was still torn, although I think his heart was probably made up from the moment Mr. Turner mentioned his spotting me. It was his mind that was conflicted. He knew what the right thing to do was. He perhaps even knew that I would tell him to continue on to Port Royal and forget me altogether, but he had this overwhelming sense of needing to follow me. He says he does not know how to describe the feelings he had in those moments as the heavens opened and a heavy rain began to fall. He had decided that day on the battlements of Fort Charles as he walked away from Elizabeth that he would never let his heart rule his head so much again, but he could not bring himself to forget me.

"Could we really live with ourselves if we left her to such a potential fate Gillette?"

Gillette moved closer to James's side. "Sir I am inclined to agree with you regarding such sentiments but we must consider that Townshend has a fleet at his disposal Sir. How are we to get close enough, and how are we to know which ship she could be aboard?"

"As for which ship, Townshend will keep her as close to him as possible if he has the chance. If she has returned to _The Grace_ , I do not think Townshend will have let them get very far ahead. As for the fleet, well I do think one would be much harder to maintain control of in such a storm as this. Besides, Mr. Turner says that the fleet separated at one point. Let us hope they have remained so. Douse the lamps Gillette. Turn her around. _The Surgence_ is one of the fastest ships in the Caribbean. During the storm we shall stand a better chance of catching ships unawares. Mr. Turner shall accompany me to the helm and direct us."

* * *

 _ **So James appears to be going after Fiona? How do you think that's going to go?**_

 _ **In the next chapter, James has a few choice words for Patrick when he catches up with him, and we meet a character that I didn't plan on writing until they appeared in the chapter!**_


	31. Chapter Thirty One - Thirty Pieces of

_**Thanks to guest for the review! There will be more of Will in this chapter and you might be right about James's temper!**_

 _ **In this James centric chapter (no Fiona at all),he finally catches up to Patrick and there may be a cameo from a character that I didn't know I was going to put in this story at all until I wrote this chapter! Is it wrong that even though I wrote this chapter myself, I think I'm a bit in love with James after it. I'm quite pleased with this one, if I do say so myself :)**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty One - Thirty Pieces of Silver**_

The cold was seeping into their very bones as they waited in the mist. The rain had stopped long before but their clothes were still damp. They had been trained to weather such conditions though and so not one single officer stirred as they approached the merchant ship up ahead that was still unaware of their presence.

"How like the Irish," Gillette muttered disdainfully as they heard the first jeers reaching them from _The Grace_. The drunken shouting only increased in volume as they continued their approach and James says he had second thoughts about taking the ship. People behaved unexpectedly when drunk and although he felt that his men were more than equipped to deal with such eventualities, he was still worried.

"How exactly are we approaching this Commodore, seen as we've no legitimate reason to board such a ship?" Mr. Hawkins was standing off to the side, an expectant expression upon his face. James says that Hawkins had offered no help at all to the crew, choosing to stand aside and watch as they battled the choppy seas. As such, James decided to ignore such a question as he did not know how to truthfully answer it. Mr. Hawkins would likely pick holes in any half-hearted plans that James put forward. With the lamps doused and _The Surgence_ sailing soundlessly up to the starboard side of the ship, it was only as James made to climb onto the railings that they were noticed. James had a much larger contingent of men at his disposal but he would not have needed them. He says Patrick's crew were all drunk and falling over themselves. I'd seen a few of them like that when I'd sailed with them but it seems in my absence things had grown rather lax. Perhaps it was the knowledge of security that purse of coins I'd been traded for that had instilled within Patrick's crew some sense of celebration. Did they all consider it a done deal, that I was never to return to _The Grace_ again? I will never know what Patrick might have told his crew and whether he meant any of the words he would have spoken. All I have to go on is James's perspective of their reaction to his appearance alongside their ship, which was not good.

"Permission to come aboard Captain?" James called out politely to Patrick when he was summoned by a member of his crew.

Patrick was confused and antagonised by James's presence aboard but he had no option but to permit him access. The reality was that Patrick knew he was outnumbered. Even with sober crew members he'd have had a job fending off James's men. James was led down to the Captain's cabin with Will Turner and Lieutenants Gillette and Thompson in tow as the rest of his officers took up positions above deck. I think there was only a little mouthing off from Patrick's crew because there was little else they could rightly accomplish in their inebriated state but the officers ignored them sufficiently. I know I'm the first to complain about the treatment of the Irish that I've seen but I'm also the first to admit that some Irish people are as prejudiced and full of malice as they come. That was Patrick's crew when they'd had a drink. Although the officers refused to repeat to me some of what had been said to them, I can imagine how hard it must have been to resist knocking Patrick's crew upside the head with the but of one of their muskets.

"Mr. Turner here, we fished out of his own vessel which was I fear too damaged to survive this storm," James announced coldly as they reached the Captain's office. He pointedly refused the seat that Patrick offered him with just a look and remained standing before the desk that Patrick sat behind. "I do believe himself and the remaining crew might not have lasted the night out there. He tells me that his ship was attacked by one bearing the name _The King's Inquisitor_. He was only lucky enough to manage to make an escape it seems, because you came to the rescue Captain O'Malley. As Commodore of Port Royal and sole custodian responsible for these waters that surround us I felt it my duty to travel out here to ascertain if there were any further vessels in need of assistance. I see however that your own ship has maintained her state. I do marvel at how such an occurrence came about. I know that Viscount Townshend who currently sails _The King's Inquisitor_ has a ruthless reputation. Pray tell Captain O'Malley, how your ship comes to be without damage at all?"

James says Patrick looked guilty even from the beginning, but he wanted to see if my old friend would manage to admit to his part in my predicament without any coaching. He also wanted to ascertain that I truly was missing from _The Grace_ before he plunged into a search for _The King's Inquisitor_. Patrick had the good grace to smile politely even through his apprehension. "I have had dealings with Townshend before and I believe he likes me well enough," Patrick supplied thinly. "I think it was more a matter of that than anything else."

"So gold did not change hands?" James asked plainly.

Patrick eyed him shrewdly. "What exactly is it that you're insinuating Commodore Norrington? I wouldn't be the first man who's paid for the safe passage of his ship through certain waters! I've done nothing wrong in that."

"As long as it was just money that you negotiated with, Captain." Gillette moved forward to stand beside James.

James nodded in agreement with his officer. "I see no harm in maintaining the state of your ship through the parting of gold Captain. As I said, we sailed this way to ensure the safety of yourself and your crew. Having ascertained it, we shall take our leave." Just as James turned to leave he appeared to recall that there was something else he wished to say. He turned back quickly to Patrick. "I say, I do believe I know one of your crew, Captain O'Malley. A Miss Fiona O'Connell. Would you be so good as to have someone fetch her for me? I should like a word with her before we take your leave."

The silence bore on for a few seconds as Patrick tried to assess how much of a lie he could get away with. "I do know Fiona. You're right in that Commodore. She's not aboard this ship though. Indeed she never came aboard with me as Captain. I left her in Rio."

Gillette kept pace with James as he moved across the cabin so that he could lean his hands against the surface of Patrick's desk and lean over it. "That Sir, is a peculiar answer for you to give us, when I have Mr. Turner's full account of today's events. He tells me that whilst he made his escape aboard his own ship earlier this morning, he witnessed a young woman with red hair moving from this very ship to the deck of _The King's Inquisitor_. It appears that this woman bears a resemblance to Miss O'Connell. I wish to ascertain her safety. If you cannot present her before me now, well I have no choice but to believe that it was in fact a woman that you have traded for the safe passage of your ship!"

Although James tells me he remained calm enough throughout his speech, I have a different account. He managed to control his rage but barely. His knuckles were white where his hands clutched the desk and his eyes told of a clear frustration. Gillette told me he was worried that James might vault the desk towards Patrick. I remember thinking it all very odd. Why should James feel such rage? He's a proud man, which he himself admits. I thought back then that the explanation for his anger must have been his frustration at being lied to. I did not really consider that it related to me at all.

"Maybe your source is mistaken Commodore, for I had no such woman aboard my ship!" Patrick roared as he stood to his full height and stared James down. James turned swiftly and gave a single nod to Lieutenant Thompson who took his leave of the cabin hastily. "As I said, I left her in Rio. Besides, what on earth makes you think I'd just hand Fiona over to someone like that? I would not dishonour my brother's memory in such a way as to mistreat his closest friend thus!"

James shook his head warily as he tried to compose his anger. "Captain O'Malley, as we speak my men are searching your ship. If they cannot locate Miss O'Connell then I'm afraid I will have no choice but to arrest you-"

"On what grounds?"

"You have acted illegally Sir. You have engaged in the trade of a young woman for the benefit of your own means. That young woman is under my protection, and as such she is under the protection of the crown. You have knowingly endangered her life and therefore I am duty bound to arrest you!"

"That's nonsense! She was never even here!"

"Are you saying that I'm lying?" Will Turner cried incredulously as he stepped forward into the room. I think Patrick must have had it written all over his face that he recognised Will from earlier that morning. He took a step backwards and ran a shaking hand through his unruly black curls.

"Commodore Sir." lieutenant Thompson had returned to the room after seeking out my cabin aboard _The Grace_ , and in his hand he held the few articles of clothing I owned. James took my terracotta coloured skirt into his own hands and held it out across he desk towards Patrick.

"You say she was never aboard this ship, and yet captain O'Malley, I do believe this clothing belongs to Miss O'Connell. How can you explain it? Thompson, Gillette, search this cabin."

James rounded the desk as his officers moved to opposite sides of the room to begin their search through the many cabinets that lined the walls. "It's not like you think-" Patrick began but he stopped as James tore open one of the desk drawers and began to search. Immediately he came across the coin purse and tossed it out onto the surface of the desk. "I...I'm to go back for her tonight. I made a deal with Townshend to trade Fiona for the passage of my ship but I never intended to leave her with him. she...sh...She was in on it! She knows I'm to go back for her tonight! She's a smart girl, she can hold her own!"

James was shaking his head in disbelief. "You call yourself her friend and yet you'd abandon her to such a fate? You left a young woman in the hands of an animal! Just what were you expecting to find when you made your return to seek her out? _If_ you made such a return? I am inclined to think you told her to expect a rescue when you never intended to make one at all!" James scooped the coin purse from the desk into his hand. "And this; your thirty pieces of silver?"

"This isn't about money!" Patrick snarled angrily.

"No." James closed the first desk and opened a second. "This, Captain O'Malley is about power. I have a notion that you know more about Miss O'Connell than you dare to speak of before myself. I'll have it known that I know her secrets. If you do too, then you are even more of a fool than I thought you were! You used her as leverage. Of course Townshend would be indebted to you after you bestowed such a gift upon him. You left her to the care of a man and his crew who have a notorious reputation with regards to women. Miss O'Connell has been aboard _The King's Inquisitor_ since this morning and you've made no move to aid her as yet. Perhaps you might think upon what fate might have befallen her in that time!"

James turned his attention towards the second drawer then and ran his fingers through the contents of scraps of paper and old quills before something metallic brushed against them. He reached further into the drawer and took hold of the metal object. He knew what he held even before he pulled it free of the drawer but he says nothing prepared him for the sight of my necklace resting the palm of his hand. The golden pendant glowed in the lamplight, setting off the pink hue of the stone embedded within it. James let the chain run through his fingers until he realised that the clasp had not been opened. He lifted the rough ends of the broken chain and stared at them as Patrick made a grab for it. Gillette had him pinned to the surface of the desk in seconds.

"Further proof, if you will," James mused through his carefully controlled rage. "This trinket also belongs to Miss O'Connell, which you appear to have ripped from about her neck. You have two choices Mr. O'Malley. You can either accompany us and aid in the search for _The King's Inquisitor_ or yourself and your crew can acquaint yourselves with my brig."

"Townshend has a fleet of ships!" Patrick's words were slightly muffled as his face was pressed further into the surface of his desk. "Only a fool would attempt such an attack. He'll blow you out of the water!"

"That remains to be seen," James replied as he nodded to Gillette. "With such a statement Captain O'Malley, I believe you've admitted that your part in all of this wasn't entirely innocent. I don't believe you think yourself fool enough to attempt such a rescue at all. I don't believe you ever intended to do so. Gillette, the brig with them all. Thompson, make ready to tow this ship behind _The Surgence_."

With that James strode back out onto deck and returned to _The Surgence_. In his own cabin he drew out charts and tried to discern whereabouts he had discovered _The Grace_ and where he thought the initial attack must have taken place that morning. Will Turner slowly approached him and pointed silently to a small area nearby. James nodded his appreciation as he placed a marker upon the chart. "Forgive me Commodore but you said this woman you seek has secrets. How might O'Malley have used such a thing against her or to win Townshend over? That coin purse was full of gold. Why would he readily hand over so much to a man like O'Malley?"

James appraised the blacksmith turned pirate for a few seconds as he tried to decide what to do. In the end he reasoned that although Turner made rash decisions, he was increasingly thinking upon his feet and had the growing mind of a skilled sailor and pirate. He might be of aid to him and he had no reason whatsoever to use my secret against myself or James when in fact James might be his only ticket back to life with Elizabeth. "Mr. Turner I hope I can count upon discretion when it is required. I cannot rightly disclose the things that Miss O'Connell has told me when they bare no relation to our predicament today. Suffice it to say that there are those in England who would pay heavily for her return there. Do not think by such an explanation that she has done any wrong, for she has not, quite the contrary. Still, there are those who would mean her harm if she were returned to them. There is a price upon her head that I think Townshend might wish to retrieve and I feel duty bound to prevent such an event ever coming to pass. I am one of only a select few that the lady has confided in and we have seen how one of her only friends has behaved in regards to her. She is everything that she appears to be, and yet a little more. I will not do her the disservice of having you think less of her. She is an accomplished sailor fit to sail aboard any ship and she has had rather a hard life. She grew up as would be expected; in Ireland with loving parents who were not quite poor but had little besides. Perhaps you will think it an oddity, that I think the safety of one such woman my sole responsibility..."

Will slowly shook his head. "You are a gentleman, Commodore. I can understand why you might feel responsible, but to chase after her through this kind of storm is reckless indeed when you do not even know if she still lives."

"Would you say the same if it were Mrs. Turner that we spoke of?" James abruptly asked. "Or any other lady born to high rank or nobility?"

Will shrugged. "I am a blacksmith Sir. I should like to think that such things do not matter in the grand scheme of things. Of course; they do. I hope one day they might not though. Regardless of station or birth, I would follow Elizabeth to the ends of the earth. If she were an empress, a lady of society, a pirate or a lowly kitchen maid it would not matter because I love her. That dissolves all notions of propriety and hierarchy. We are simply man and wife."

James shook his head a little. "Mr. Turner I do think you run away with yourself. This is not as much about love as respect. I respect Miss O'Connell unerringly. She does not deserve the fate she has been dealt and I should have ensured that she was sailing with trustworthy people before she left my care. She was of great aid to me aboard this ship and for that I owe her a debt which I fully intend to repay. I just do not know how to go about it."

James had spoken plainly to Will Turner and believed he had said enough to the blacksmith without revealing any details of my secrets. The problem was, there were more cunning people aboard _The Surgence_ than Will Turner who knew more about the world outside. Indeed Mr. Hawkins was one of them. He pulled the small cameo portrait of me from his pocket to stare down at my likeness as he skulked in the shadows outside James's cabin. He had heard enough of the conversation to know that James knew my secrets and intended to keep them, but he had also learned that I was not who I said I was. He was angry with himself for not seeing the likeness even though the little miniature portrait looked noting like me. I've changed a great deal since I sat for it at fourteen years old. Any doubts Mr. Hawkins still had would soon be erased though. He stepped hurriedly back into the darkness as Lieutenant Holmes came barrelling down the corridor towards James's cabin.

"Commodore Sir! A navy fleet approaches our port side! They fly colours Sir so I do not think they mean to ambush us!"

James had rounded his desk before Lieutenant Holmes had even finished speaking. He raced out onto deck in anticipation of meeting one of his peers, a sudden hope building within him that he might persuade the commander of such a fleet to aid him in my rescue. He knew it was not likely, as a fleet would have a royal commission and their own course. They would have little time for a down and out Commodore who had nothing left to cling to put the purse strings of a Lord in London who had offered a ridiculous commission. When the first rate ship of the line came along side he marched to the railings and scouted the crew for any man he might know. It was at the helm that he found him. Ambrose Beauchamp; his own cousin.

"Ho there!" Ambrose left the helm and made quick work of descending the steps to the main deck. James was sure though that his cousin did not know who he greeted until he reached the railings and caught sight of James upon the other side of them. "Commodore Norrington? Sir I did not expect to see you so far out from Port Royal. Indeed these are your waters to patrol but..."

James shook his head warily at his cousin and threw a wayward glance over his shoulder towards where his officers stood. Evidently, his cousin had heard of his intentions to wed Miss Elizabeth Swann, but had not yet been availed of the latest developments where that relationship was concerned. He was ever conscious of the fact that Will Turner was still aboard his ship and so he had felt the need to silence his cousin with just a glance.

"It appears we have a rather pressing issue, Lieutenant Beauchamp. Viscount Townshend has been ransacking ships in these waters. I fished the crew of one from their barely held together vessel a few leagues from here. They were intending to make it to port but I do not think they would have made it. It was a merchant ship Lieutenant. The Viscount may have the King's ear but he cannot be permitted to treat the sea as his own. This must stop."

"You require my aid?" Ambrose raised himself onto the railings and crossed over onto the deck of The Surgence. "Of course Sir if you ask for it, I am required to give it but are you quite sure this is a path you want to take? If things end badly you could face a dressing down. The Viscount does have the King's ear after all."

"I Cannot allow the sinking of honest crews Lieutenant," James replied sharply. "Not when I have reason to believe some may be from Port Royal itself. I have a responsibility to ensure the peace of these waters. How are men to trade if they will stand no chance of maintaining a supply of goods or of a sail-able ship? I am afraid this is one step too far."

Ambrose nodded. "As I said Sir, I am required to provide aid if you require it."

"Perhaps you might speak with your commanding officer. I will need his assurances that he means to aid us."

Ambrose smiled softly then. "Perhaps Commodore you shall think yourself lucky when you hear that I have command of this fleet. It was only a short voyage from Port-a-Piment to Matthew Town, transporting troops. We have no commission as yet. I was to meet with a commanding officer at our destination. Therefore you may issue orders if you see fit."

James motioned with a slight nod of his head for Ambrose to follow him. "Perhaps we might sojourn in my private cabin to discuss at further length how you might aid me, Lieutenant."

Neither man spoke until they had followed the dark corridor that led to James's cabin. When Ambrose entered the room, James closed the door swiftly behind him, entirely unaware of the eavesdropper who still lurked in the shadows just outside the door.

"Cousin," Ambrose spoke openly. The formality of seconds before was lost as they both gazed at one another. "Can you really be sure that to intervene in Viscount Townshend's affairs is wise? We know him to be an artful, deceitful man of course but you might do your own name damage if you overstep the mark."

James was glad suddenly for his cousin's wise reasoning. "Ambrose we have not seen each other in some time, but I believe you are as astute as ever. I would be glad of your counsel, although I fear that my mind is already made up. It is a course of action I must take."

"What of your social standing cousin?" Ambrose moved forwards into the cabin with a keen eye as if expecting something to catch his eye. "This marriage of yours may not go ahead if you tackle the likes of Townshend. Governor Swann might see fit to snatch his daughter out of your clutches."

I might have laughed at that if I'd been there. James did not laugh. he grimaced. He did not want to have to regal his cousin with the latest news but he had little choice in the matter. "Ambrose, Elizabeth Swann is now Elizabeth Turner. She has chosen a different path and has married another man. I am currently under no obligations to that woman."

Ambrose turned surprised eyes upon his cousin. "Goodness, mother had it entirely wrong then. She thought you were both set to marry so very soon. It does not surprise me that such a woman would chose her own path in life though. I always thought her rather a risky choice for a man such as yourself. She is too hot-headed. You are free then. Our mothers will be delighted to welcome you back to the balls and assemblies of London then. They will make quick work of suitors once I pass on this news."

"Ambrose..." James sighed heavily. "Cousin at present I have no intention of marrying. I must ask you not to discuss this with anyone as the man who married Governor Swann's daughter is currently aboard my ship. I do not have time for explanations at present. I appreciate that we have not seen each other in some time but perhaps we might limit this conversation to the necessary sentiments. Time is pressing on and there is much more I must tell you. I would not have my officers know it, but I do not simply wish to ambush Townshend to stop his ransacking of merchant vessels. Granted, that is reason enough and I will take comfort in knowing I have put a stop to such actions but there is something yet more that I must tell you. I believe he has taken a young woman captive and you will know her potential fate under such circumstances by Townshend's reputation alone."

Ambrose shared a grave look with James. "When was she taken?"

"Some time this morning," James replied urgently.

Ambrose shook his head knowingly. "I am sorry James to tell you so but you know as well as I do what can befall a woman in such company over several hours. Chances are she is already dead. You should not hope to recover her. Who's daughter is she? Has someone offered you a commission to retrieve her? Lord knows, whoever the father is he might try to guilt trip you into marrying the ruined wretch if she's still living."

"Cousin you misunderstand..." James began to tell Ambrose how he had first met me and of how our unlikely friendship and trust had sprung up. I don't need to tell you all that of course, for I've told you already. I often wonder why James was so open with his cousin but evidently he trusted Ambrose with my secrets, even the more damning ones.

"Sidney's niece you say?" Ambrose was facing away from James, gazing out of the window. "That changes things. Do you know how much of a price she would fetch James? Sidney would practically anoint you a deity if you brought her home to him. She's caused him no end of embarrassment you know, attacking her own uncle like that and running from the wonderful life he had offered her. All of London knows it. Despite the fact she's been of aid to you, you cannot deny that she's a rather ungrateful little wretch to treat Sidney so poorly-"

"Ambrose she-"

Ambrose rolled his eyes as James tried to interrupt him. "But of course my cousin has fallen for a pretty pair of eyes and pleasing red lips again. She has told you a differing account."

James nodded. "That she has, and I am inclined to believe her. Why would Sidney tell such a tale to all of the ton if he were embarrassed, Ambrose? It is rather peculiar; and yet Miss O'Connell has told her tale to no one besides myself. Attack her uncle? Have you met Sidney, cousin? Would you readily believe that a young woman might attack him without provocation and hope to succeed? He is a large man. You will know when you see Miss O'Connell that she did not attack him of her own volition. She did so out of fear for her own life. I have told you she is strong and an able sailor but despite all of that she is little more than a waif. Think of what she would have been before a life at sea hardened her, when she was just a child. She was only fourteen years old when Sidney tried to force himself upon her. She fought back and readily admits that herself. Was she to submit to such treatment? Would you wish for your own sister to endure such trauma Ambrose? Her own uncle attacked her and she fought back with a fire inside of her that I happen to admire. It is the same fire that drove her to aid me. If that were your sister, what would you say then?"

Ambrose turned back to face James. "My uncle and your father would never do such a thing. I have no need to imagine my sister ever falling into such a trap!"

"Then we are lucky, are we not? Your sister is lucky! This goes beyond good breeding and birth Ambrose. This is about men who seek to exert their power over what they believe to be the weaker sex. This is about power and control."

Ambrose appeared to feel a little guilty as he let James's words wash over him. "If what you say is true, and I am inclined to believe you James; why on earth does Sidney not just declare the girl dead after all these years and never speak of it again? Why is he intent to recover her?"

James was shaking his head. "I wish I knew. I am sure Miss O'Connell will have a fair few theories but she has voiced none to me. The most obvious is that Sidney is besotted with her, or rather the idea of her. She thwarted his power and he wishes her to pay in kind. He wishes to punish her. I put it to you that he has the same abdominal mind as Townshend. I have a responsibility for every person aboard my ship Ambrose. Even after these men leave it I shall feel responsible for ensuring they find their way home safely. Miss O'Connell is no different. I could not live with myself if I left her to such a fate. Forget class and breeding for God's sake man! She is someone's daughter. Would you not hope someone would do the same for your sister. I certainly do!"

Ambrose looked stricken and he nodded slowly. "James I appreciate what you say and you are right but..."

"Time presses on, cousin." James approached the door of his cabin. "I must have your answer immediately I'm afraid. I have present need for a fleet of ships. You are in command of one. You must decide whether to aid me or not. Do not think upon regulation and subordination. I will think no differently of you if you decline. I shall not report it; but I shall remember it. Your mother brought you up a gentleman. What would she advise you to do? I must have your decision now."

* * *

 _ **So what do you think of James's carefully controlled anger with Patrick? Is it true to character? I feel like if James had a bit more time and there wasn't an urgency to go after Fiona, he might have gone in a bit more on Patrick but obviously he has more pressing matters. I feel like that's more like Norrington, to prioritise his need to move quickly rather than giving in to his tempter.**_

 ** _What do you think Will will do now that he knows a bit more about Fiona? Will he behave himself or use what he knows about her as leverage to get home to Elizabeth?_**

 ** _Also, what do you think of Ambrose? As I said, he was never a character until I suddenly realised I had a need for a navy fleet because Townshend has a fleet. James needed a bit of help, and so I thought we could meet a member of his family. I'm thinking ahead and I do think that he'll make an appearance in future chapters. I think it was a good balance to have some new people challenge James's thoughts so that he can decide more clearly._**

 ** _Let me know what you think!_**

 ** _Fiona will be back in the next chapter, learning a bit more about Andromeda and her life!_**


	32. Chapter Thirty Two - Respectfully United

_**Sorry for the wait with this one. I've a rule that I can't post until I'm two chapters ahead and I couldn't shake of the writer's block this week! I'm up to date though so now I can post! In this chapter we'll be seeing a bit more of Andromeda and we'll be learning what Fiona's fate might be!**_

 _ **Thank you to guest for the review! Ambrose is definitely the voice of reason! Even though James is quite level headed he still needs that voice!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty Two - Respectfully United**_

Brigs are not pleasant places. I'm sure you'll know that yourself but I'll tell you all the same. They are dank and dark, full of the smell of the seas you only hear about in children's stories. If you're lucky enough to have a lantern to light some of the way, it is almost worse. In darkness, there is only the black void before you but candlelight can often create the oddest shadows to menace and threaten you out of your wits. There was no such lantern aboard the brig of _The King's Inquisitor_ and I was swathed in complete darkness. It was odd to be trapped so when I knew there was daylight to be witnessed above deck. It's not an unheard of method when trying to break captives; to leave them alone and unoccupied for a length of time. I'd only been there a few hours but I knew I could potentially find myself in the same state in a few months time.

I continually let my mind drift back to the crew of _The Black Pearl_ and Mai, who were locked within James's brig for months themselves. I'd always felt guilty about it, and that guilt increased as I realised just what they must have endured. What choice did I have though? If I'd not helped James in some small way then they might have spent much longer in that brig, wallowing in the mire of their own thoughts. My thoughts flew to Rio then and to my pirate friends. I wondered how they fared, and if they had managed to escape their prison. I sorrily hoped so. They had Jack Sparrow on their side after all, and everything he put his mind to seemed to work awfully well.

Still it bothered me. Could I have done more? As soon as I had some understanding that James was no longer an enemy of mine; that he actually appreciated me, I could have protested. I could have demanded to be locked in the brig with the pirates. I could have stood alongside them and hoped that James might offer them some kind of reprieve for us all. By rights that was what I should have done. Knowing I had his ear, that I had some leverage I could have tried to make him see sense. That was what I should have done. At least if Id done it that way, out in the open for everyone to see; James would not have any reason to lose respect for me. What would he say if he ever got wind that I'd taken some kind of action and that I'd deliberately acted against his wishes.

I slid my hands into the stuffed pockets of my breaches and fumbled over the coin purse and the old pieces of my mother's jewellery along with those that belonged to Mick's wife. It was only a little thing, and yet I felt the loss of the bejewelled hairpin keenly. It was no bigger than a normal hairpin, made in silver and with a cluster of Chrysoberyl stones at one end for decoration. It was something I saw my mother wear often, particularly on Sundays when we attended Church. We didn't have much in the way of trinkets but I thought it was one of the finest pieces she owned. It was no rare thing for I'm sure many woman had something similar but far more pretty. It reminded me of my mother's eyes. The stones had the same yellowish green hue, almost olive green. I wondered if someone else might see it and think of my own eyes. I could never draw comparison with it again though. It was no longer in my possession. The day in Rio when I'd paid for some new clothing for myself and Mai, I'd stuffed the hairpin into Mai's little wound up bundle of new things in the hopes that she might find it and make use of it. I'd wanted to act so badly, to try and help Jack and his crew but I'd not figured out a way to. Is it so very wrong that I'd wanted to do something, and yet still manage to remain upon good terms with James. That was why it all required stealth. I did not know if my little hairpin would even be of much use in anything other than picking a lock, but I'd readily given it up in the hopes that if all else failed, at least I knew I'd done something to try and aid my pirate friends.

Indeed it was such a trinket that I might have made use of myself in my lonely hours in that brig. At least aboard _The Surgence_ the brig had been somewhat cleaner and more well lit. There were no shadows to be found as more lanterns lined the gangway. It was by far a more pleasant place than the one I was resigned to call my home for the foreseeable future. That was if I got lucky. If I had any of the luck that my countrymen were well known for, I'd spend my time in the brig and rot away into nothing. I'd not be dragged up on deck and used as entertainment for the masses. I knew what my fate was though. And yet; I could not bring myself to use James's knife. Just hours earlier, and before I heard that voice I would have not given it much thought. I'd have taken it to my wrists without a care to ensure I did not have to endure that which I'd run from eight years ago. I'd not run so hard and fast and lived a life so full for all those years to find myself embedded in the coils of a viper again. No, I'd have taken a shameful way out. I thought it was shameful to be such a coward when I'd met many women who had been through such ordeals. It makes many of them stronger, and yet I had a notion that it might be the one thing that might break me. Not the death of my father or life away from home, not hearing on the wind that my mother too had perished, not watching Mick die as he saved my life, not the loneliness of a navy ship or the despair of a life not worth living. All of that I had managed so well, when I had thought at the time it might break me. I did not consider myself strong enough to endure the absolute hell of a man taking from me the last vestiges of will that I had. I was no longer pure of course, having given in to Patrick O'Malley's charms so long ago but that had been my choice. No matter how deceived I might believe myself to have been, I still wanted it. I chose that path. Even now I do not regret something which only taught me of the world. Yes Patrick was only using me, but I used him too. He was right. I wanted to be everything that my uncle did not want. I no longer wanted to be the ethereal and pure country girl. Patrick had helped with that. No, it was someone taking that by force that I could not bear the thought of. I had such a strong will and I still do. It is what kept me alive for so long and to have someone rip it from me, namely a man who had no care for me at all was to be the end of me, I was sure.

There was no hope. It was a thought still swirling around my head as my head fell back against the wooden slats behind me and I drifted off into a restless sleep.

 _The stone flagstones were freezing cold against Andromeda's bare feet. Her silk skirts whispered around her ankles as she rushed along soundlessly. She stopped just beyond a set of ornate doors that led into a room she had yet to enter._

 _"...this man even is? You say he has asked for her hand and yet we know nothing of him. Here you all are, in his home eating his food and drinking his wine as if you have known him all of your lives." Her uncle; Andromeda was sure of it. "It is shameful. What can he offer you that I cannot?"_

 _"He is Andromeda's choice." Her father. "After what has befallen us and all that has passed, I find I cannot bring myself to refuse her. We must atone for what we did."_

 _Andromeda was imagining her father shaking her head. Her hands were also cold, that I could feel. She wore only a simple silk dress that covered her torso and legs. Her arms were bare and I wondered how she managed the sudden coldness that crept into the air. She was not cold for long though. An arm slipped swiftly around her waist and pulled her back against a hard body. She did not stiffen as she would have done before, or jerk away in fright. She knew his touch. It was as if she had always known it. He held her against him tightly as they both eavesdropped upon the conversation coming from within the hall._

 _"Atone?" Andromeda's uncle spluttered. "My niece willingly gave herself to the sea. She sacrificed herself. That was the atonement. Now that she has been taken from the sea, we do not know how the world will shift. You had always spoken of her with such praise brother, and of course I knew that you intended for me to come to you all eventually, to seek her hand. It is what must be done. We must strengthen the family further with marriages."_

 _I felt Andromeda stiffen then, but the man's hold of her was soothing. His fingers that rested atop of hers across the plain of her silk covered stomach rubbed gentle soothing circles into the backs of her hands._

 _"It is true," said her father, "That I always did hope my brother would return to us one day and come to know my daughter well enough to believe she was capable of becoming his wife. She was always so lost in her own mind as a child. It did worry us some. I cannot tell you how upset that I am, that just as you have come to us, this man has stepped forward. How am I to refuse the man though, who saved my daughter. They have grown attached these last few weeks and I fear there is no parting them. I will not tear my daughter from a man she wishes to marry, brother."_

 _"Then you fail us all." There was evident disgust in her uncle's tone. "I myself shall think of a way to part them. I shall turn her head some other way. Of course this man seems to her like the most wondrous man she ever did meet. He rescued her from a terrible fate. It is no wonder she is attached. He has age and comely looks upon his side but all of that will fade with time. What else have they to tie one another together in an incorruptible bond? They do not have the ties that family can bind. I will break them. I will see to it that they never look upon one another again."_

 _"You cannot harm him brother. Who knows how that might anger the gods. We do not need more retribution..."_

 _We heard no more. The man chose that moment to move, taking Andromeda with him as they rushed back down the hallway the way they had both come. I felt the warm breath of the man on my neck as it ghosted over Andromeda's. He still held her tightly but she moved with him, agreeable to his moving of her. The coldness began to ebb away as we were suddenly before a roaring fire that crackled and spat in reassurance and furs were thrown over Andromeda's shoulders. She fell back into a chair, strangely comfortable in the overly large room. A goblet of a warm and dark liquid was pressed into her hands as the man knelt before her and we saw his face for the first time. Those emerald green eyes cut through the fog as real gemstones might just have done. His gaze was impenetrable as he stared at Andromeda. I wanted to reach out and touch his face so badly, for I was sure I would never see it's likeness again in what was left of my life. Andromeda did as I wished and cupped the side of his face with one hand. She ran her thumb softly over the smooth skin of his cheek, and the slightly rougher part of his jaw that had been clean shaven only a few hours before. His lack of a beard was an odd sight for her, when every man she knew had an ample one. It spoke to her of discipline and also of an indifference towards the conventions of the world. That excited Andromeda._

 _She let her fingers explore further as he watched her with those beautiful eyes that seemed to have cast a spell over her. The pad of her thumb brushed over his lips and she felt the hot breath escaping through them. She shivered even though she was no longer cold. If it was indeed a spell he had cast over her, it must have been a spell of freedom for Andromeda had never felt more wild. His hand came up to grasp hers softly and he moved it, bringing it to rest with her other hand around the goblet which he motioned for her to drink._

 _"We shall have to act upon what we have heard..." Andromeda drank deeply from the goblet of warm mead and watched the man silently, still slightly marvelled by the thoughts that he was here with her. She nodded her agreement even though she had no real notion as to where the conversation was going._

 _One of his hands found her knee and he caressed it softly. "I would never deign to make a choice for you my dear, but I must urge you to make your own choices quickly. I do not ask you to even consider myself as an option, but I am here before you now as a friend. I believe our souls are entwined and I see in yours a freedom and a strength. Even if you do not believe in what I do, I know you have a belief in your own strength. Do not let someone take that from you. You must choose wisely, for this is the rest of your life that you must consider. You must choose your path. I undertake to be your confidant, to remove from that path the obstacles which will serve to hinder you. Of course you must decide for yourself what is an obstacle. I can only live in hope that you do not think me one myself; that one day you might choose to walk a path with me at your side. I understand that trust must grow, but I urge you to consider that trust is not borne from familiarity. Your family you have known all of your life and yet they would lay your life out before you in a succession of plans made by men of power. Perhaps you must consider that those who come into your life abruptly may have better intentions than those who you have always known. You have the strength and sense within you to map out such a life for yourself. Do not let someone take that from you. You must trust only yourself, not even me."_

 _Andromeda shifted then as he moved back from her and took his own goblet into his hands. That was the thing, she already did trust him. She glanced behind her into the near darkness of the large room. He had brought her to his own chambers where she had spent much of her time since their return from the rock. Her eyes fell upon the great bed where he had carefully placed her all those nights ago, still wrapped in his cloak and naked beneath it, with the sea still scenting her hair. Indeed she had lain there the evening before also, but he had not been quite as restrained in his actions then. How could she not trust him after all that had passed between them; all that had passed in general. He had shown more faith and belief in her than any person ever had. Her mother and father would never permit her to make her own choice._

 _"What should I do then," She spoke for the first time. "How should we act? I feel as you do, that our souls are entwined. If I choose to walk a path with you, how must we act?"_

 _He smiled softly. "I cannot ask you to choose that, Andromeda. I can only hope and wish fervently. No, you must decide yourself and I will not entice you in any way. All I shall tell you is what I think we should do. If you think differently you must tell me, and I shall endeavour to meet your needs as your confidante, your friend and as anything else that you wish. I shall tell you that if you like, and only if you wish it that we could marry. That your uncle intends to wed you is not lost upon me. If that is not a path you wish to take, you must consider another man. I know that women fear marriage but it may also be the safety net that you did not know you needed as long as you choose the right man."_

 _She smiled knowingly then. "So you would have me think that you are that right man?"_

 _He sighed heavily. "I wish you would, but I wont force such thoughts. You must come to such a conclusion yourself." He shrugged then and moved back still further. "We are already married in the eyes of some..." He nodded towards his bed and she felt herself blushing. Her body seemed to answer him in that moment as she recalled the dull ache at her core, the stiffness of her legs that spoke of their exertions the evening before in his bed. "If you wish to become my wife before the gods then we shall make it so. If you cast me out, then it is so. I only wish you to chose your own life."_

 _Andromeda shook her head slowly. "All of this is very one sided. What about what you want? Is that not important?"_

 _He stifled a laugh. "I want what whatever you want. Your uncle is right though. I have little to offer you at present besides my adoration and protection. To marry me in haste and without the consent of your father will doom you to a rather poor fortune I am afraid. You shall likely be cast out and that is something we shall not be able to rectify immediately. There is of course the ire of your uncle to also contend with. All of this you must be willing to accept."_

 _"That's the rub, because I want what you want." Her reply was jovial, but Andromeda lost much of her positive outlook almost immediately. "You are a great man despite all of that who should marry well. All that you speak of, it should persuade you not to marry me. You shall be marrying a woman who will have no dowry, no family and no connections. You yourself will surely loose connections in the process."_

 _he grabbed her hand and squeezed. "This connection we have here is the only one I care about."_

 _"How shall we ever make a strong pair when we cannot compromise and speak for ourselves? Must we be one voice; united?"_

 _"Respectfully united," he laughed softly. "Is that not what a marriage between equals is?"_

 _"Equals?" Andromeda held his gaze then as his smile faded. "I have never thought; never considered that I should be a man's equal."_

 _As she placed her hand upon his shoulder to draw him closer again he squeezed gently upon her knee he still held. "That is just it my dear. You are no man's equal because you are their better. Most women are. Partly because you have the ability to make a man feel like he may one day be equal to you when he is in fact far below you. That is an act of kindness that not many men are capable of."_

 _Andromeda pulled him further closer. "So my marrying you would be an act of kindness then?"_

 _Ne nodded heartily as he smiled in mirth. "It would be the greatest gift that the gods have to bestow upon me. I would consider it an honour. I have already said that we must act swiftly, so if this is what you want, we must marry quite soon I am afraid."_

 _Andromeda smiled back at him. "Then we shall marry. Tonight?"_

 _If he attempted to answer, she did not know for at that moment she leaned forward and kissed him. He touched her face gently, his kiss not as forceful as any that he had pressed upon her before. He pulled away after only a few seconds. "Not tonight my dear. You must sleep upon all of this. Tomorrow; if you are still of that mind?" She answered him with another kiss but he pulled away almost instantly and stood to his full height. Disappointment bloomed in the pit of her stomach. "No. This must wait too. I shall not cloud your mind tonight. I would have you make an informed and unsullied decision. Therefore I must leave you to your own thoughts for tonight."_

 _He kissed her forehead softly and moved away towards the door. Her eyes followed him as he stopped upon the threshold and gestured to her to go to him. She jumped up and moved hastily, thinking he was about to let her kiss him after all. Instead as she stopped before him he gestured to the latch on the door as he stepped through it. "Do not trust anyone," he whispered softly. "Latch this door and do not open it until morning. Your uncle stalks these hallways at night. I have seen him. Do not give him a reason to force your father's hand before the two of us act."_

 _"Wait!" His head appeared around the door again. "I cannot..." Andromeda gestured to the ribbons at the back of her dress and out of her reach which held it all together at the nape of her neck._

 _He smiled knowingly, his fingers tracing so softly against her skin as turning her around he peeled the furs away from her shoulders and tugged softly upon the ribbons until they fell loose and her dress fell open at the back. Then he was gone. That was what she wanted. She wanted his touch tracing her skin like that as he undressed her every night for the rest of her life. She had wanted him to stay with her and yet he had gone. He had left her in the immeasurable comfort and safety of his own rooms and she felt that mark of respect and care keenly. She could not believe her luck that such a man had come to her on her lonely rock._

The dream left me as I was shaken roughly awake. I had no concept of time as I was pulled to my feet abruptly. Townshend had sent two men down into the brig to me but with only one lantern between them both I could barely make out their snarling expressions. They were unhappy and I quickly realised why. They pushed and shoved me along towards the steps that would take us to the upper decks of the ship and I knew they were angry because Townshend had asked for me, and he had asked for me untouched. They had been forbidden to have their way with me at least until Townshend himself was present. Things were a little quieter than they had been earlier, and I realised it must at least be evening if not the dead of night. My dream had kept me company in my slumber for far longer than I'd thought.

The fierce cold air whipped my hair back and forth as we made our way above deck and I searched the wild waters around us for signs of life but found none. The storm was picking up but it appeared Townshend hadn't thought to approach the relative safety of the coast. I was dragged along the deck and I tripped at one point as we skirted around some barrels, my bad knee almost buckling with the force of the blow as it knocked into the wood. I tried not to cry out, channelling my pain into a wince because I didn't want to show my hand as to any weaknesses I might have. Eventually I recognised the dark repressive corridor we were led down and I knew I was being taken to Townshend's own cabin.

The warm glow of all of the lit candles and the smell of roasted meat met me as the door swung open. It would certainly sound like a more inviting environment on paper, but I'd have rather stayed in the bleak oblivion of the brig. Townshend was stood, leaning down as he appraised something laid before the chair at the head of the table. I was shoved forward into the room and I stumbled. My knee smacked into the floor and I couldn't help my hiss of pain. Determined to get to my feet without aid I tried to push myself back into a standing position, feeling a hand reach out to pull me up by my upper arm. Townshend moved past me then and closed the door to his cabin slowly, as if he was sharing some silent communication with his men outside. Then the key turned in the lock. The sound seemed to shake me awake more than being dragged across the deck and I knew I needed to have my wits about me even as I turned around to witness Townshend slipping the door key into one of the pockets of his coat. I needed to get my hands on that key. All sorts of methods and plans flitted through my mind as the Viscount retraced his steps across the cabin until he was standing over the table again.

"Now Miss O'Connell," he announced conversationally. It was as if he wasn't even going to acknowledge that he'd had me locked in his brig all day without food, water or light. "I'd like to offer you a proposition."

I snorted, trying to put every ounce of distaste into my expression as I looked down my nose at him. "One that you think I'd actually willingly accept? That is a marvel!"

He seemed to find my reluctance amusing. "Well as far as I can tell Miss O'Connell, you have little choice in the matter. I am willing to offer you friendship and protection in return for your aid. I think friendship might be something you'll need in this world Miss, as you've not got any. The man you call a friend did indeed give you over to me for little more than a few coins. He may think you to be worth quite a lot, but I am yet to see any proof that you might be who he says you are. Indeed I did know beforehand that you were worth a little more than the average woman. I have heard tell that you have some skill with charts and maps. I had thought you might aid me in those regards, and we might come to some arrangement."

"I'm not agreeing to anything," I mumbled heavily. "Least of all that which entails me warming your bed." I shifted my weight onto my good leg nervously as he continued to watch me with a grin on his face that remained for many minutes. I thought suddenly of what James had said then and forced some weight back onto my bad leg even though pain seared through my knee at such an action. James was shrewd enough to notice my injury and I wasn't sure if Townshend would come to the same conclusion. I thought it better to hide such a weakness for the time being.

"Who says I need your agreement Miss? You're mine to do with as I wish now. I do not need your consent or your assurances. Myself and my men are in dire need of entertainment. I think you'd fit that bill quite nicely. Of course, you can save yourself from all of that if you take a seat at this table and have a look at this map for me. A little bird told me you know where to find _The Crown of Immortality_. Find it for me, and I dare say you might save yourself a lot of trouble."

"Why does everyone think that I know where that blasted crown is?" I cried as I stamped a foot in frustration. "I'd never even heard of it before Jack Sparrow spoke of it to me a few months ago. It's not even real! Your little bird, was it called Tia Dalma? That witch is out to snare men in any trap she can. You can take her words with a pinch of salt!"

Townshend chuckled. "And yet all the world searches for it. Perhaps you protest too much and that is why we all think you must know something about it. If you are truthful, then I can still see a use for you. You were vital to your captain before his death and even Commodore Norrington said that you were of great aid to him. How can that be? A little sprite like you can't really be any more skilled aboard a ship than a cabin boy so I'm willing to bet there's more to you. You don't look like a little cook so it must be charts that tickle your fancy. There are treasures the world over that are still waiting to be uncovered and I'll be damned if I let the likes of Jack Sparrow get his hands on them. Help me in this, and there will be rewards."

I shook my head again. "I don't consider getting to keep me life a reward," I supplied thinly.

"No..." he mused. "I don't suppose someone like you would. You are too wild and reckless. Strangely, it makes you all the more alluring. I saw you, aboard the deck of _The Grace_ , ready to do the unthinkable and commit harm upon yourself so prevent any further ordeal. I think perhaps it even tugged on O'Malley's heartstrings. He did not want to watch you die, did he? Do you know the kind of power you might have over men if only you would channel it in the right way? No wonder Commodore Norrington forced your stay aboard his ship for so long. I'll bet he couldn't bare to part with you! Was that how you aided him eh? Warming his bed?"

"Oh don't lump all men in along with yourself!" I replied hotly. "The Commodore's a decent man. He'd not ask such a thing of a woman."

Townshend issued a bark of laughter that made me flinch slightly. "What maps did he have you look at then Miss? You might as well tell me now. I'll torture it out of you later anyway."

When I made no reply he moved. He grabbed my shirt collar as I tried to struggle against his hold and dragged me over to where he had lain charts at the head of the table and with both arms he forced me into a chair. His hands clamped tightly down upon my shoulders to hold me in place and I couldn't find the energy to throw him off. One of his hands moved to my neck then, creeping around to hold my chin so that he could point my face in the direction of the maps. I squirmed against his hold but his grip only tightened, so much so that I thought his fingers might actually pierce my skin. I thought of James then, hoping he was free of the storm and perhaps returned to Port Royal by then or even well on his way to England. I so badly wanted to think of him here with me, the resilient naval commander who would no doubt think of a way out of my predicament in a heartbeat and chastise me for not seeing it myself. I stopped myself and only just from wishing he were with me and instead sent up a prayer for all to be well with him, for him to be safe from the storm and the ire of men like Townshend. Tears leaked from my eyes as I realised that my prayer felt like the most prominent one I'd ever made in my life. Odd isn't it, that I chose to pray for James in those few seconds rather than my own self? It was all hope that he was as far away from the chaos as possible, and that he'd not even think on me. Perhaps it was only then that I felt some notion of how deeply my regard for the man had grown. I esteemed him and in a much greater way than I'd ever thought of Mick O'Malley. How was it that a man so far above my station had entered my head and my heart by doing very little at all. Aside from showing me more respect than I was ever due and saving my life a few times, he'd not really imposed upon me. He certainly would have no idea that I'd taken such a fancy to him. It would probably embarrass him if someone were to make it known to him. he'd be a gentleman of course, all smiles and apologies about it and then he'd remove himself from my acquaintance very quickly. He'd think I was some love-struck little fool, to be in love with someone I should never even have come to meet.

* * *

 _ **What do you think is going to happen to Fiona? Will she have the strength to save herself?**_


	33. Chapter Thirty Three - Of Whirlpools

_**Thanks for the reviews as ever from Guests, Lindsey, and Icar372. I love hearing the little snippets of things that you notice I've woven in here and there without really thinking it will mean something to anyone.**_

 _ **In a review of an earlier chapter that I recently answered, I explained my choosing of Fiona's name and then realised I should add it here as I've not done so before. When naming my character I'd pencilled a list of common Irish names and began to research some of them. I wanted her name to be something that was easily recognisable as Irish but also a "common" (I hate that word!) name that Fiona would have thought of herself as something to hide behind. I think Fiona was obvious from the start as it's not a name I've seen used in many fan fictions but is also a familiar Irish name. Then I began really researching surnames, and once I reached O'Connell I went no further. Of course it's an underhand reference to Daniel O'Connell. [Wikipedia look up if you don't know him ;) ] In short he fought for catholic emancipation, and in particular for Catholics to have the right to sit in Westminster parliament which was illegal for over 100 years. He did a hell of a lot for his nation in a mostly peaceful fashion, and I just thought as Fiona was brought up catholic that it fitted so well.**_

 _ **Religion aside, I wanted my character to be fair and just, She's not judgemental in any way and would give her help to anyone in need. I wanted to always be reminded of such traits and I felt O'Connell was the only fit. I then stumbled across a quote from O'Connell himself;**_ **"The poor old duke [of Wellington]! What shall I say of him? To be sure he was born in Ireland, but being born in a stable does not make a man a horse!"** _ **I could not help myself when I found that. It fits a man like Sidney so well who was born in Ireland and has shirked all of that heritage to become an English peer. I felt it rang true with Fiona's resentment of him. I recommend looking up O'Connell if you're interested in Irish history in any way. He was fighting for Catholic rights at a time when very few were and stood against slavery too. It's definitely a good place to start if you're interested in how the Irish Free State came about. Religions aside I find it all fascinating. Not being catholic myself, I did give myself the challenge of writing from the catholic perspective as I thought it would broaden my own horizons a little and add depth to the character. I've been brought up quite liberally though so I suppose I am Fiona's opposite counterpart in some ways. Fiona's fairness therefore was an important part of the story. She was never going to be a religious figure who bashed other religions and exalted her own. I'm from the north of Ireland so for me, some of the Irish history I've learnt in the course of writing this story is entirely new or what I learnt at school but it's very important to me. I grew up hearing my mum's own tales of the troubles and I'm glad to say I live in what must be the most peaceful time in Ireland/Northern Ireland. I so much wanted to stress how important fairness and equality is in this story for it's how I was brought up. Religion is just that, a belief system. In this world we should not be judging someone for who they pray to or how they choose to pray. We should judge that person on their own actions and deeds. We should not mark a religion because of one person's actions. There's still hate and violence in Ireland and Northern Ireland of course, but I feel that it's become so far removed from religion now. It's hard to really believe those still fighting even care about religion at all. I'm not strictly religious myself but I'm pretty sure of what I believe. Everyone should be free to believe what they want to. I find it hard especially when some Christians judge others so harshly for their beliefs or path of life. Judgement in itself is not very Christian is it? I wanted Fiona to embody all of this but not in an overpowering way that overwhelmed the story. I didn't think there was much of me in her but after writing this, I think perhaps there is!**_

 **"Every religion is good - every religion is true to him who in his good caution and conscience believes it."** _ **\- Daniel O'Connell.**_

 _ **If you struggled through all of that, Thanks! Never thought I'd be getting political at all, but I'll do so for the past as long as it relates to the story. I'm not even going there with Northern Ireland's current politics. (eye roll emoji) Don't Wikipedia or google that for God's sake! It's not worth it! So, onto this chapter, which I'm very pleased with. I'm not giving anything away, so read on and tell me what you think! All I will mention is the song lyrics that are again The Parting Glass, and are an old parting song. I couldn't help myself as the lyrics fit Fiona's ordeal so well.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty Three - Of Whirlpools and Wildcats**_

How was I to know that someone heard my prayer. How was I to know that as James stood on the deck of _The Surgence_ , he suddenly turned and glanced up towards the sails as the wind whistled around them louder than ever before. Even over the noise of the storm he heard the strange sound as it came closer, swirling through the masts and the sails like a whisper until it reached him at the helm. Would you believe it? He says he heard me signing; like a whisper on the wind.

 _"...Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had_

 _They're sorry for my going away_

 _And all the sweethearts that e'er I had_

 _They'd wish me one more day to stay_

 _But since it falls unto my lot_

 _That I should rise and you should not_

 _I'll gently rise and softly call_

 _Good night and joy be with you all..."_

He turned on his heel whilst still clutching the ship's wheel with one hand, searching the decks for my ghostly figure that he was so sure he would see. So frightened and devoid of life did that whisper sound that he was sure I'd passed on and that I'd come back to haunt him from the beyond. How I laughed when he told me that, for he is the first to shoot down superstition, to ignore tales of magic and folklore because to him it just isn't logical. All that he saw before him was his own crew as they struggled against the wind to keep the sails taught and the masts upright.

"Did you hear that?" he asked of Gillette when he finally caught sight of his lieutenant.

"Hear what Sir? There is nought to be heard over this wind!"

"That singing! Where the devil did it come from?"

Gillette appeared stunned. "Singing Sir? There is no singing to be heard! We can barely hear one another!"

The ship jerked then and both men grabbed the helm with both hands and shared fearful glances as it seemed as if the ship had caught itself within a whirlpool. Round and round they travelled, so fast that no one had time to act before they were submerged. Within seconds they resurfaced and both men stared at each other in amazement and then down at their uniforms. It was the most alien experience they had ever been though, thinking all was lost and that they were to drown for a second or two, only to resurface no no time at all, bone dry. Gillette moved his arms backwards and forwards, remarking with astonishment his dry uniform that held little dampness even from the rainfall earlier that evening. James turned his sights to the main deck where the rest of the crew had stopped what they were doing to marvel at what they had just seen and felt. He then felt a frisson of fear that the other ships had not made it out. He turned swiftly, seeing his cousin at the helm of his own ship not far off their starboard side.

"Are all accounted for?" he bellowed.

Ambrose waved to him as if he'd only just noticed him. "What the devil was that?"

James took the count into his own hands and moved to the bow to sum up Ambrose's fleet. With all accounted for, he suddenly felt the urge to give in and did, staring down into the black mass that was the ocean as if he might see the remnants of the very whirlpool they appeared to have sailed through. There was nothing there. The waters were as choppy and wild as they had been before but there was no whirlpool in sight. It had happened so fast that none of them really had the chance to take anything in. James wasn't afraid to admit to me much later that as he removed his hands from the helm they shook a little.

"The singing, it's stopped." James returned from the bow, glancing about him as he went, sure that he would see some form of haunting figure nearby. "He placed his shaken hands back upon the helm and ignored the curious glance Gillette threw his way. "And yet it...still haunts me..." he let a shiver race down his spine. I think James knew subconsciously that the disembodied voice he had heard had something to do with that whirlpool even if he did not readily make the connections. Of course, when he told me what had happened later on, I knew that somehow my prayer had reached him, that there was some definite connection between us. With his hand at the wheel he'd felt desperation when he thought he heard me and lo and behold; a whirlpool opened up to transport them many leagues ahead.

They were only roused from their shocked states by Lieutenant Thompson racing up the steps to meet them at the helm. "Commodore Sir! Ship sighted on our port side! Permission to advance Sir?"

It was then that we heard it. Just as he leaned in to let his rancid breath ghost over my neck and down towards my collarbone we felt the vibrations and heard the sound of cannon fire. "What in the blazes are they doing?" Townshend snarled incredulously of his own men. Even I knew that it had been _The King's inquisitor_ that had fired, but would there be return fire? A second later my thoughts were confirmed as cannon tore through the side of the ship far above us. I jumped up out of the seat as soon as Townshend's hold of me slackened.

"That's navy cannon fire," I mumbled before I could stop myself. All of my fears were realised then. Not only was I locked in a room with a despicable man like Viscount Townshend but I could be about to be discovered by the navy. Townshend would share my secrets in return for anything, and I'd be handed over to be parcel wrapped and sent back to my uncle. Tears fell unbidden as panic began to set in. What if my uncle was aboard that very ship that was advancing upon us?

A sickening chuckle brought me to my senses and I stared up at Townshend, who had lost all interest of the goings on above deck. He was staring at me as if he was only just seeing me for the first time. His eyes made quick work of roving over every part of my body slowly, drinking it all in. "You really are her aren't you; Sidney's niece?" He must have recognised the terror in my eyes. I started moving away from him, very aware of the new hunger I was seeing grow behind his eyes. There wasn't far for me to go though for soon enough I was trapped between him and the table. I thought about darting sideways but on one side I'd come up against the chair he'd sat me in. If I did manage to get past him, I was sure my knee would only hinder me. I ducked sideways as he lunged forwards abruptly, clearly attempting to pin me down to against the table behind me. his arm snagged my waist before I got very far at all. It appeared he'd been anticipating that I'd try to get away. "He's heir to a title! Why on earth would you run from that?"

He was holding me against the edge of the table and the corner was digging painfully into my hip but I forced down my wince. "Same reason any woman runs from a man!" I snarled as I fought against his hold. "You all think we're a commodity to be bent to whatever will you choose! I'm no doll to be stuffed into a dress and placed on a mantelpiece!"

There was nowhere for me to move but backwards as Townshend pressed himself even closer to me. He made a grab for my hair and I jerked out of the way. My back arched as I leaned back even further over the table. I wasn't ready the second time he made a grab for me. His hand curled around my hair and I hadn't the time to think of a retaliation before he slammed my head into the table. There was force enough behind the hit that I felt dazed for a few seconds, unable to stop myself falling limp as the room spun on it's axis. I recovered in time to find him hoisting me onto the table and I kicked out wildly, landing blows to his sides with my feet as he growled in annoyance. He grabbed my throat tightly in one hand to hold me in place as his hand caressed my side.

"Just think, if he'd married you he'd have made you a Marchioness. A scrap of skirt like you hightailing it through society with the very best of the ton? I don't think so somehow! I think you'd have been married and saddled, then locked away to do his bidding whenever he pleased! What man in his right mind would let a wildcat like you loose in London? You've too smart a mouth! You'd bring Sidney to his knees with just a few words-"

Cannon fire continued to reverberate around us and the sound of splintering wood told us the deck below us had been obliterated. The flooring on one side of the cabin dipped as if in answer to it's lack of support on the port side of the ship. Panic flared in Townshend's eyes briefly as he took them off me for a second. I took my chance and lifted my knee up sharply into his groin. I'd hoped to be able to push him off me in his distracted state but he growled again and pressed me further into the table. He fumbled with his coat even as I saw pain dance across his features. The next thing I knew, the barrel of his pistol was pressed against my temple. I stilled as realisation dawned upon me for the first time that I stood no chance against him. He could easily subdue me with the threat of his pistol but wasn't that a quicker way out for me? If he shot me in the head I'd not suffer. I began to thrash again as he removed his hand from my throat and grabbed my waist. I panicked for a second as his hand trailed over my belt, just missing the knife I had hidden there by an inch. I was desperate to pull it free and hold it against his long neck but I knew that would be giving the game away too soon. I needed him to be entirely distracted so that I had the best chance of escape. Of course I had no plan for what would happen afterwards if I succeeded. There was still a ship full of the Viscount's men to contend with, and we were already under attack from a navy ship but all of my attention was upon what move he might make next. I had no idea how unpredictable he might choose to be in the next few moments and I pushed any further escape plans from my mind as I concentrated on how to get myself out of my present predicament, that was if I wanted to. I knew there was an easy way out of course but I wasn't ready to give in yet, finding some strange form of hope brewing in my chest as he leaned towards me.

I let tears of frustration escape only because I wanted him to think they were perhaps a product of my defeat. I let my shoulders fall back against the table as if I had worn myself out trying to fight back and I felt him grin as he leaned in to sniff my hair. His nose brushed the base of my throat as he continued to breathe in my scent. "I've never had a would-be Marchioness before..."

His pistol landed somewhere above my head with a thud as he let his hands roam my body. Revulsion washed over me even as I continued to bide my time, waiting until he was suitably distracted. I almost lost my determination as one of his hands cupped my breast through my shirt. A jolt of fear unwillingly ran through me and I had to stop myself from thrashing against his hold. Real sobs of frustration escaped my lips and I let him think it was despair and anguish because it appeared to be adding to his arousal. I knew how he wanted things to go. He wanted me to suffer through every emotion known to man before he tossed me aside. He'd torture me every way he could before he let me break entirely and I knew I did not have the determination or the will power to see myself through it. I did not have that internal switch that some women had, where they could just take themselves to somewhere else in their heads and pretend that none of it was really happening to them.

Slowly he began to pull away from me, groaning as he went and I knew that he considered my ordeal far from over. His hands found my ankles and he began to caress the backs of my calves. I knew what was coming then and I reached for the hilt of the blade I'd secreted beneath my belt. Clutching it tightly, I turned it slowly in my hand so that I held the blade. I cursed myself even as I did so, knowing I should not have been considering the fact that I could attempt to simply maim him and get away. Deep down I knew to stand any chance of survival myself I'd have to kill him, but I didn't want to. I'd never taken a life before and not even in those moments of desperation did I think myself capable of it. The blade began to bite into the palm of my hand sharply as I clutched it tightly. It was almost warning me to turn it around again, to hold the hilt and thrust my arm upwards with all the energy I could muster. Still I didn't.

There was a part of me that thought this man that had been foolish enough to miss the blade hidden in the folds of my skirt might also miss a few other things. I thought he might be easier to fool. I thought I might not have to kill him. His hand cupped the back of my bad knee and I quickly jerked my knee out of his hold. he scrambled to grab it again, his curiosity piqued by my unease and shame. I felt my cheeks flush as his hand gripped the back of my knee again as if it were in a vice. Try as I might, I could not shake it free. I couldn't help my yelp of pain as his grip tightened even more so and my knee erupted in pain. I kicked out at him with my other leg, screaming for him to let me go as I finally lost my patience and my sense. The pad of his thumb brushed against the skin of my scarred knee cap beneath the leg of the loose trousers I wore and I saw the disgust on his face even as he retracted his hand.

"What a little Marchioness you'd make Miss, with such a deformity! What would your uncle say to that eh? I think he'd be as disgusted with you as I am-"

There was a deafening thud from above us as cannon blew apart the stern and the poop deck of the ship. I wrestled against Townshend's hold even though I knew that even if I did get away from him, there was nowhere to go but the sea. I screamed and shouted even as he tried to wrestle my arms down to pin them against the table and the map below my back slid all over the place as I moved. Still Townshend had not noticed the weapon I held in my hand as he prised my knees apart with only his legs. As I realised what he intended to do I waited for his grip of my arm to slacken before I raised it as quickly as I could and struck him on the side of the head with the hilt of the dagger. I knew I'd used some force and it would have been enough to floor myself but the Viscount remained standing. He was not even dazed. He snarled at me and I saw the controlled anger in his eyes snap. As he tried to force the blade from my grip with one hand, his other was trying and failing to reach for the pistol he'd discarded earlier. I was swiftly loosing a grip of the blade as blood from my cut palm caused it to slip. He gave up on the pistol as the blade dropped from my hand to hit the floor with a clatter.

He pinned me to the table with one of his hands whilst the other reached for my shirt. I spat in his face as I thought he was about to expose my breasts. He only grinned as he lifted the lapel of my shirt back to reveal my shoulder and my scar there. "I was told you'd been shot. Imagine your uncle trying to sell a damaged and rotten little thing like you on the marriage market in London. Your future husband would get a fine shock. He'd not know whether to bed you or use you as a piece of gnarled old driftwood. I bet O'Malley saw past it all, you Irish don't care for much as long as you get results in the end. You'd lie with anything, you bunch of heathens!"

I knew then that he was not going to force himself upon me. Both of his hands found my throat as cannon fire ripped through another part of the ship. Townshend's eyes darted up briefly and I saw the worry there. He had spent too much time with me, and his ship was likely lost because of it. His grip tightened and my eyes widened in fear. I fought against his hold even as I battled for a breath but he was too strong. I kicked out, trying to knock him off balance but he leaned in, trapping my good leg against the end of the table. I felt my arms slacken then as I felt the fight drain out of me. Without the blade I was as powerless as I had been when I was fourteen years old, both against my uncle and those three crones who had tricked me into becoming their slave. Perhaps that was all I was really good for though, when all was said and done. What kind of escape could I make if I did manage to get away. If I was lucky, the navy would ship me back to London. He was right after all, I was not exactly the marriageable prospect that I might have been at fourteen. I was still malleable back then, still influenced by the world around me. I was beyond that now, too impure and damaged to be worth anything to anyone. At least if I died there was no way for anyone; my uncle or Townshend for force the secret of the golden sword from me. James and his treasure would be safe from their greedy hands.

 _"You must have courage. You must not let go."_ The woman was there with me, the woman from my dreams. Andromeda was circling the table towards me and I sensed her even though I could not turn my head to gaze upon her. I felt her warm touch against my cold and clammy hand for the briefest of seconds before something hard and cold pressed into it. Then she was enclosing the hilt of the blade within my grip with her own hands, pressing me to take possession of it again. _"He is coming for you. You need only hold on long enough to let him find you. Do not fear your own strength. You are far stronger and smarter than you would ever believe yourself to be. You must fight back, you must choose your own path."_

I felt her at my side even as her voice floated away. Sound was fading as I struggled to breathe. I turned my attention back to Townshend as my muddled mind tried to make sense of Andromeda's words. It was then that I noticed he had left himself open to attack. He was pressing me down into the surface of the table with his arms raised and reaching around my throat. I acted on instinct and plunged the blade into his upper side in much the same way I had done that day on the deck of _The Surgence_ when the Kelpie had attacked me. He opened his mouth but I did not hear any sounds that he might have made. my vision began to blur as worry set in. He had barely reacted as I stabbed him. I yanked the knife from his side and tried to gain a better grip of it as I lost sight of the room entirely. I knew somehow that I had seconds left to spare before blackness consumed me. I aimed what I hoped was a little lower and mustered all of the fight I still had left in me, forcing the blade into his side again as his blood splattered over my shirt. A rare ray of hope bloomed inside me. His grip of my throat slackened immediately and I greedily sucked in air, coughing and spluttering as I felt him fall against me. I pushed and pushed, eventually managing to manoeuvre enough room to roll myself out from underneath him. He seemed to regain his balance but only for a second,pushing himself into a standing position only to crumple once again. He fell to one side as I rolled to another, throwing the bloody knife out of the way so I would not land on it as I smacked into the floor. Townshend crashed into the pulled out chair before he tumbled over it, landing on the floor with much less grace than I had.

I wasted precious seconds trying to recover, coughing air back into my lungs as I shuffled along the floor away from the Viscount who lay bleeding on the other side of the table. It took an age for me to get to my feet as I glanced around me, realising that Andromeda had gone. I still do not know if she really came to me that night or if it was some part of my own subconscious that came to me. Whatever it was, I am nothing but grateful for it. I sucked in painful breaths as I counted up all of my options quickly and forced my brain to try and consider the more logical ones. I glanced back at Townshend and recalled the key he'd put into his pocket. I no more wanted to approach him to search his pockets than I wanted to put my head in a furnace. I had visions of his hands snapping up to grab me, to do me harm even in his weakened state. It was then that I realised I could hear my ragged breathing. If I could hear that, why could I not hear cannon fire? It had fallen eerily silent and I began to panic again. I turned towards the stern, considering smashing a window and diving into the waters below us. The water had always somehow sent me where I needed to be, but I could not even begin to hope that it would wash me up on the deck of _The Surgence_. That really was wishful thinking. Footsteps thundered across the deck; far too many of them. The navy had taken the ship. I glanced about me even as I heard men moving in the corridor beyond the cabin door. I could not hope to scale the dresser that stood below the window with an injured knee in time to smash it and dive to safety. The door handle rattled violently and my head snapped to and fro, searching for a solution.

Something began to batter against the lock on the door just as I dived behind the desk and discovered a gap between the two columns of drawers on either side. Just large enough for someone to fit their legs underneath, I managed to slip into the gap, bringing my knees up to my chest so that I was completely ensconced within the gap and only hidden from the rest of the cabin by a panel. Manoeuvring my knee in such a way brought painful tears to my eyes but I clamped my hand over my mouth to smother my ragged breaths and any sounds of pain. They appeared to give up on the lock for the whole door began to shudder as if someone was forcing their weight onto it. Then they pulled away and began to kick at it. Now when I look back upon it, I'm surprised that they did not hear the frantic beating of my heart even through the door. The truth was that I had no notion of who stood on the other side of it, trying to force it open. I pulled my knees in to my chest even tighter, ignoring the searing pain in my knee for the sake of ensuring that I was entirely hidden underneath the desk.

The door finally gave way. It swung wide open and footsteps thundered into the cabin. "How the devil..." I knew they must have found Townshend and that someone would eventually voice the concern of how he had done himself such a mischief on his own in a room locked from the inside. The clipped English tones of a navy man did nothing to soothe my nerves. Surely such a man would be far too shrewd to think that a Viscount had fallen on a dagger all by himself twice. Even if he did, he'd still search the room and I knew I'd be found quite quickly. The drawers of the desk would be the first place they'd look for documents or gold. "That door was locked from the inside. I want all of these cabinets searched. Leave no stone unturned."

Numerous affirmatives chorused through the room as the men began to move again. I stiffened as I felt the vibrations of their footfalls spreading out. A few of them came far closer to the desk than I was comfortable with and I began to panic again. "Do you suppose this is the weapon?" The second voice did not have as clipped a tone as the other. Strange, how even in my panic I noticed such a thing. Not an officer then, but perhaps a midshipman?

"I believe so," the first voice confirmed. "I see nothing else apart from this pistol. A curious blade do you not think? I believe I've seen it's likeness somewhere before."

A single pair of booted feet began to move again and I glanced down at the floor to see a shadow beneath the minuscule gap between the flooring and the wood of the desk. He kept moving and I took the hand from my mouth in case I needed both ready; for what, I didn't know. A hand fell to the handle of the first drawer as the boots came into view, but the drawer was not opened. Soft brown eyes met my frightened olive green ones and the man started a little at the sight of me.

"What have you found?" The first voice again.

I knew the man who gazed down at me. He was the man who'd been aboard the smaller merchant ship that had narrowly escaped Townshend's clutches earlier that day. His dark curls fell into his face a little as he leaned forwards towards me and I shrank back as far into the desk as I could go. When he held out a hand I jerked away from it. "Why don't you come out of there? I'm not going to hurt you."

How was I to trust someone I did not know. I didn't move an inch and instead glared back at the man, determined not to take my eyes from him lest he play some trick on me. Another pair of footsteps rounded the desk and I recognised another face. Gillette stared at me in much the same way as the darker haired man had before he jerked his head upwards. "Sir!"

"What?" That voice. One spoken word was all I needed to know who had just entered the room. I had little time to prepare myself in my hiding place beneath the desk as footsteps rushed towards us from the other side of the cabin. More boots came into view, the new pair as well buffed as Gillette's. I glanced upwards as James stared down at me, an unreadable expression upon his face. He says it was anger he felt, to see me forced to hide away in such a way and I also think there must have been a little confusion there too. After all, he did not know what had passed in that cabin.

Was it relief I felt when I saw him? I don't think I felt it straight away. No, I think it was more shame. Who wants to be found in such a way by the person that they think they might be in love with? Perhaps he realised I was very unnerved for his expression softened considerably as he slowly lowered himself so that his face was at the same level as mine. His eyes never left mine, as if he was desperate to tell me I could trust him. Of course, I already knew that I could. There was so much more in his eyes though. I've said before that they had the uncanny ability to make me think of my home in Ireland and that moment was no exception. It felt even stronger that time, so much so that I was lost in that sense of security for a few seconds before I realised that he'd held out his hand to me.

"Miss O'Connell." gingerly I moved my hand forwards a little before the candlelight caught it and I realised that it was stained with blood. I hesitated and glanced back towards James but his eyes never left mine, imploring me to trust him. My hand shook a little as I placed it in his and he smiled gently. He began to pull lightly on my hand as if encouraging me to emerge from underneath the desk. I let him pull me, not sure if I should move any faster given the pain in my knee. Only when I was standing did James release my hand. His hand fell to my shoulder then as he appraised me carefully. Whatever he thought of my appearance, he did not let it seep into his expression. His eyes bore into mine then as if he was trying to read my thoughts.

"Are you hurt?" He asked softly.

I shook my head even as his eyes flickered down towards my knee and then back up to meet mine. "I'm...fine," I stammered.

He nodded, although I was sure he did not believe me. My worries were not for myself though. I turned to look around the room and found all of the officers that I knew from _The Surgence_ present and another that I had not met before. Had James enlisted a man to fill the vacant space that Lieutenant Groves had left in his passing? I had not considered that he might have had time to return to port and make his way back out to sea again. My eyes kept spanning the room until they landed on the long table that hid Townshend from my view.

"Is ...Is he dead?" I croaked as I turned to look at James.

I found no answer on his face. Instead he turned me towards the door with the hand that still held my shoulder. "Come with me." His tone brokered no argument and I complied as he fell into step beside me, hiding the long table from my view as we made our way to the door. He nodded once to the unknown Lieutenant before he ushered me into the narrow corridor that led out onto deck. He stopped me with a gentle squeeze of my shoulder. We were standing just inside the door. "Wait here for me please Miss." He ventured out onto deck and I glanced down at myself for the first time. My hands were stained with blood and so was my shirt. I suspected my trousers were too but I couldn't tell as the material was dark. I held my shaking hands out in front of me, remarking to myself how starkly pale my skin looked against the drying blood. I shivered then as a gust of wind from the deck flew through the corridor and I was caught in it's path. I couldn't help bringing my bloodstained hands up to rub my upper arms to try and circulate some heat. I was so cold all of a sudden, shivering uncontrollably.

I did not know what my fate was to be, and that frightened me. I'd attacked a peer of the realm. I could face execution for what I'd done. It wouldn't matter that I'd been seconds from my own death at the man's hands. My version of events would not even be taken into account. I wanted to be violently sick suddenly, but I forced the bile in my throat down as I saw James striding towards me again. I shall tell you when I felt the first real relief. James says he could see my shaking white hands from across the deck as he returned to my side. In one fluid movement he'd taken off his coat and placed it around my shoulders before I had even had the chance to refuse such a kindness. I knew then that whatever was to befall me, I had James firmly on my side. I did worry that I'd get blood on his coat but once the warmth of the wool enveloped me, I was unable to consider giving it up.

"Come," was all he said before he gripped my elbow through the thick wool coat and led me out onto deck. He helped me up onto the railings so that I might cross over onto _The Surgence_ and he followed behind me, his hands firmly gripping my upper arms as if to catch me if I lost my balance. Finally my feet touched the deck of _The Surgence_ , where the crew were running around madly as they tried to make repairs. Just as I started to take it all in, someone called out to James from behind.

He was needed aboard _The King's Inquisitor_ , but I was not so sure how comfortable I felt in him leaving my side so suddenly. His hands slid upwards to my shoulders. "Mr. Hawkins!" Hawkins came running from the bow of the ship, stopping just before us as he threw me a curious look.

"Commodore?"

"Hawkins, Miss O'Connell is your charge. Take her to my cabin and ensure that she has everything she might need. You alone are to remain with her unless one of my officers returns to the ship. No one is to enter that cabin until I or one of my officers return. Do you understand me?"

Hawkins nodded swiftly and offered me a soft smile that I was not sure I trusted at all. Hawkins always had been a little sneaky but I I did not envision that he'd wish to cause me any real harm. Certainly in a situation such as the one I was in, I thought he'd at least be civil; if not a little sympathetic. James's hands left my shoulders then as he retraced his steps back aboard _The King's Inquisitor._ I watched him go as a hollowness seemed to encase me. My hands were still shaking as I clutched the lapels of James's coat to my chest.

"Come along then Miss," Hawkins said lightly. "Lets get you into the warm, eh?"

I moved with him but I threw a glance over my shoulder to search for James among the crowd of navy men aboard _The King's Inquisitor_. There were far more than _The Surgence_ might hold and I soon knew why. There was not just one navy ship accompanying _The Surgence_ , but a whole fleet that surrounded her. I sucked in a sharp breath as I realised James had taken out all of the Viscount's fleet. I was not sorry, for Townshend was an evil man and I knew that for myself even more so after my ordeal, but I wondered at James making such a rash decision. I was so lost in my thoughts that it took me a good few minutes to realise that Mr. Hawkins was not taking me to James's cabin, but he'd led me down the steps into the bowels of the ship with a strong arm clamped around my shoulders. As we continued on, realisation dawned upon me that he was taking me down into the brig.

"Don't fight me," he cried into my ear as he watched the confusion mar my features. "You've got no chance of escape with all of the crew on my side. You're being put where you belong!"

The last few steps were submerged and as we stepped down, the water came up almost to my knees. The Surgence might still be sail-able but she had clearly not escaped from the battle unscathed. She'd taken on quite a lot of water, so much so that the whole gangway of the brig was submerged, as were the cells on either side. Hawkins pushed me on into the brig but a shadow loomed from one of the cells and Patrick O'Malley sneered at me from behind the iron grill. He struck out a hand and snatched a fistful of James's coat to drag me closer to him.

* * *

 _ **A bit out of the frying pan and into the fire for Fiona, don't you think?**_

 _ **In the next chapter, we find out just why Hawkins is causing so much trouble; and if James will be able to stand against him.**_


	34. Chapter Thirty Four - A Secret Unveiled

_**Thanks as ever to the guests, Sammy Lindsey and Icar372 for the reviews! Yes, Patrick's a conniving brat with ideas above his station. He was always going to behave that way in my mind. I think there was evidence of that in his reluctance to heed any of James's instructions. We'll see what he's up to in this chapter and if it's possible to thwart him! We've also got Patrick down in that brig, with a few tales of his own to tell! I'd be curious to know who you think is more dangerous, Patrick O'Malley or Hawkins?**_

* * *

 _ **Let me put it this way:**_  
 _ **if you came to lay**_

 _ **your sleeping head**_  
 _ **against my arm or sleeve,**_

 _ **and if my arm went dead,**_  
 _ **or if I had to take my leave**_

 _ **at midnight, I should rather**_  
 _ **cleave it from the joint or seam**_

 _ **than make a scene**_  
 _ **or bring you round.**_

 _ **There,**_  
 _ **how does that sound?**_

 _ **Simon Armitage - Let Me Put It This Way...**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty Four - A Secret Unveiled**_

The cold iron pressed against me as Patrick pulled me towards him. His grip of my shirt collar tightened as I tried to wriggle away from him. If I'd expected Hawkins to help, I was severely wrong. He'd plucked a bundle of iron keys held together on a ring from his pocket and was opening the cell door. He then yanked me free of Patrick's hold, only to shove me into the cell. I tripped over the threshold as my foot caught the iron tread that sat below the opening. I scrambled up from the floor as quickly as I could despite the protests that my knee made. I knew that I was at a disadvantage on the floor with Patrick around because I had no idea what he might do. By the time I'd righted myself, Hawkins had closed the cell door and locked it again.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked him incredulously as he backed away from us.

"Taking the executive decision to keep you locked up Miss. You might leave us again if I don't. After all, I want to present you to your uncle in one piece."

I shook my head at him as I tried to think of a reply. I was not sure how he'd found out who I was but I did not want to admit so readily that I was who he thought in case he still had any doubts. Perhaps this was his way of trying to prove his theory right, so I decided I'd give him no proof. "Uncle?" I queried. "What uncle? I have no family?"

It was Hawkins's turn to shake his head. "Don't play coy with me Miss, not when I've heard the truth with my own ears. You are Sir Sidney's niece. I heard as much from Commodore Norrington. Curious, what some women will run from. Sidney would have given you everything; a life in London living in the lap of luxury. The toast of high society and the envy of every woman. Instead you chose a life at sea? Well, I'll make no bones about it as you're about to make me a fortune. Sidney will hail me a hero for bringing you home to him. After all of the humiliation you caused him, I think he'll take great pleasure from forcing you to endure a life shackled to him."

My mind jarred as I tried not to think of how James might have disclosed my secrets but I desperately wanted to believe he'd not done it deliberately, that perhaps Hawkins might have simply overheard him speaking to Gillette or someone that he trusted. "You know nothing about me or why I left! You've only heard one side of the story. You can't hope to make a sound judgement from such an account."

Hawkins snorted. "Like your friend Mr. O'Malley here, the only judgement I care about is the jangle of gold coins as I measure them out. What is it about you eh; that has the Commodore in knots? For finding you out, he'd have made admiral for sure. He'd have been aligning himself with one of the most powerful men in the country! He'd have set himself up for life-"

"Perhaps he's smart enough to know an untrustworthy man when he sees one!" I interrupted hotly. "Perhaps he's clever enough to know that an alliance with a man like my uncle is not worth all of the gold in the world! The Commodore ultimately has a little too much honour and self-respect to be seen to be in league with a man like my uncle. He's no fool. He saw him for what he was-"

"Just as well I'm here then isn't it Miss? I'll ensure that you are handed straight back over to Sidney along with whatever it is that you two found in that cave! Yes, I know you found something! All of those cosy little meetings in the captain's cabin, whisperings up on the quarter deck! Of course, perhaps you just slipped into his bed! Half the crew are saying it and the other half are thinking it! I don't blame the Commodore really for taking such a chance. Who can when faced with all that hair and fire inside you? You're certainly pretty enough to catch anyone's eye but I do wonder at Sidney thinking he could tame you enough to make you a marchioness one day." He moved then, pulling from his pocket the miniature portrait that I'd sat for when I'd first arrived in London at fourteen. "To think, you once resembled a little duchess. Of course oil paint was kinder to your sensibilities. Wouldn't surprise me if Sidney takes one look at you now and casts you off. Not now you've been bedded by pirates and navy men alike. I'll still get my coin though. Far as I'm concerned, that's all that's important."

He turned away then and made his way along the gangway towards the steps, whistling as he went. "Wait!" I called out hoarsely but he didn't so much as turn to glance at me has he climbed the steps. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I realised the kind of predicament I was in. James might trust me and like me well enough to want to help me but how on earth was he to act when his whole crew was against me? He'd have no option but to follow their wishes for fear of mutiny. I wrapped my hands around the iron bars and tried to rattle them in frustration. They did not move at all and I winced a little as the gash I'd opened in the palm of my hand started to bleed again. The only opening I could see for anyone to help me would be when we docked in London again. James could call upon other help then, but even if he did it was still rather a lot for me to ask of him. No, it would ruin his career if he helped me at all. I let my head rest against the cool iron and closed my eyes so that I could try to think of some way around the situation I was in. In all honesty I was so anxious about the thought of being handed back over to my uncle that I forgot that Patrick was standing right behind me.

He moved slowly, making no sound at all as he came to stand beside me and leaned against the bars. It was not until I opened my eyes that I recalled who my cell mate was. I wanted to scramble away from him and put as much distance between him and myself as possible but I didn't. If Patrick thought I was worried or nervous he would pounce. Instead I stood my ground, staring daggers at him as if I might somehow curse him with my eyes. If only I could have cursed him, it might have made the next few moments a little easier to bear. There before me stood someone that I had once cared a great deal for. I'd not been fool enough to consider that Patrick and I might have one day married one another and had children together but I genuinely thought there was some part of him that was still good. I'd always known he was slippery, but I'd thought he was family; that he'd have felt obliged to help me out in some way. Perhaps it's my upbringing, or my Irish way of life but it still pains me a great deal to know that there's such betrayal in the world. For someone who really did not have much, to loose a friend meant a great deal.

"So did you tell the Commodore where I was Patrick?" I asked of him quietly. "Or did he have to wheedle it out of you?"

Patrick's forlorn stare made me wish I'd not asked. I already knew the answer and I didn't need to cause myself more pain in hearing it in his own words. "Of course I told him Fiona. I was going to come for you myself before he caught up with us. I told you as much!"

"How were you going to take on a whole fleet of ships Patrick?" I felt the beginnings of a snarl in my chest and was unable to trample it down. "Do you really think I'm fool enough to believe that? You might have fooled yourself with that lie but not me! Did it make you feel better to fill my head with all of that nonsense; to make out like you were some great hero? I mean someone more foolish than I might have actually been waiting and hoping that you'd do as you promised. I guess I'm lucky that I was brought up to think and fight for myself."

"What else could I do Fiona? The man was going to blow my ship out of the water!"

"So you did it to save your ship, did you? So you weren't tempted at all by the purse of coins he dangled in front of your nose at all? Come on Patrick! Give me some credit at least. If you'd told me that there was no other way; that you needed to sacrifice someone in order to save the ship I'd have readily given myself up. I'd have been the obvious choice, being the newest member of the crew. Instead you turned into a monster! You killed a man Patrick; a good man!"

He shrugged as if my words meant nothing to him. "He was a terrible cook though!"

I snapped. I launched myself at him, splashing water everywhere as I almost slipped trying to claw at his face as he brought his hands up to push me backwards. I was so worn out that it didn't take much for him to shove me back into the bars. He leaned closer to me, so much so that I felt his breath ruffling my hair. "Now see here you little sprite! What choice did I have? Townshend was offering me a way to save my ship and to save you too! If I'd refused him we'd all have perished! I saw a way to save my ship and my crew. Yes, that meant sacrificing you for a time but you're a smart girl Fiona! I thought you'd wriggle out of it somehow, like you always do. You certainly wriggled out of your uncle's hold well enough! What can I say, I had a little faith that you're just as sneaky as I am when you want to be! Who knew you had such friends in high places, eh? A commodore enlisting a whole fleet of ships to give chase and rescue some bit of Irish skirt. Your friend Hawkins kept me well informed. Maybe he's right! Maybe you are warming the Commodore's bed. Who rightly knows? All I know is that there's a lot more going on than you think, Fiona!"

"What-"

"My brother was a fool to keep you around, you know! You're worth so much coin that he could have sold you for a fair price. Mick was too kind and good for sense. Do you know how many men are clamouring to tear chunks out of you little girl? Townshend, Beckett and your uncle just for a start and God knows why?"

"W...Who is Beckett?" I stammered.

Patrick snorted. "You should hope you never cross paths with the man again."

My mind jarred. I did not recall meeting anyone called Beckett. "Again? Wha-"

"You see up until recently you had something they all wanted. For years you've been walking around with that necklace around your neck, not knowing what it was. I knew it the first time I saw you wearing it six years ago! Your pretty little chunk of metal from home is an ancient piece of eight!"

"How is that possible?" I clearly heard the disbelief in my own tone.

"Well I suppose I should explain how I found out. I tried to get to know you back in the day because I wanted the necklace and I had no idea how to get it off your pale pretty little neck. Every time I thought we'd catch a moment alone, Mick would creep up over your shoulder. He was always watching. Even when we did finally connect on a deeper level, there was no way you were taking it off. You kept banging on about how it was a piece of home. You never really knew why you liked it so much, did you? You never once considered it's importance! That's why you are the fool! That lump of gold has lain hidden for hundreds of years, being passed down and reshaped countless times, until it landed in your lap-"

"It didn't land in my lap. I picked it up in a field!" I snapped in reply as I tried to dispel from my mind everything Jack Sparrow had said to me about the necklace. "It's just an Irish knot that some pour soul dropped by accident." I omitted from my explanation the fact that I had an inkling that it might in fact have been James's father who had dropped it.

"In essence, the shape of it doesn't really matter," Patrick stated as he finally took a step back from me. "It's the wearer that's important. It's powers lie dormant until it's worn by the rightful owner. Story goes that it belongs to two lovers, that they are entwined by the fate of that necklace. It ensnares them, bewitches them and throws them together when otherwise they might not even have met. That's the thing about this world, Fiona. We lose track of friends, family. We go to places we'd never thought possible, all on a whim. You know that's a life at sea. Who knows what's really destined to happen, but that necklace of yours is trying to push destiny along a little more. Give it a helping hand, shall we say. I had no idea really when I first saw you wearing it, but I think it belongs to you. You were meant to find it that day in that field. I didn't realise...

He trailed off for a few seconds, shaking his head as if trying to convince himself not to say more. When his eyes caught mine in the lantern light though I think he knew that his time was up; that the decent thing to do was tell me the truth. "Those men who attacked you in Tortuga and tried to take the necklace; I sent them." Whatever it was that I had been expecting him to say, it was not that. "I told them to frighten you a bit, but not to hurt you. I thought if you were scared enough and so bogged down by grief at loosing Mick, you might hand the necklace over without much of a fight."

"So when you saw me in Rio, you lied?" I cried, my voice cracking as my emotions finally began to crumble. "You said you thought I was dead. All of that was lies?"

Patrick threw up his arms. "What was I supposed to do? I'd been trying to get that necklace for so long and then you walked willingly into my path in Rio. I couldn't believe my luck. I thought if I tried hard enough and got you on side again that after a while you might be convinced to let me have the necklace, but we didn't get time for that, did we?"

"Who sent you after me? Who wants the necklace Patrick? Tell me! It can't have been Townshend because he never mentioned it!"

Patrick laughed coldly. "Even if it were Townshend, he'd not have spared a thought for the necklace when you were in his sights. He's more of a material man. He'd rather take stock of the goods before him than to listen to folk tales about some lost legend. He takes that which he sees before him. The blood, is it his?"

Patrick was nodding to my bloodstained hands which still shook. I forced myself to stand up straight and tried to still the trembling. "What's it to you? You didn't like him much, by all accounts. You can't like me much either, for leaving me with him. After all of that, the least you could do is tell me the truth Patrick. Who wants the necklace?"

"You've little chance of stopping them Fiona. You might be a marvel in the eyes of many, but you're no match. You'll be watching over your shoulder for the rest of your life. You think you've got it bad with men like your uncle and Townshend wanting to bend you over a table and have their way with you? You've no notion of the real danger you're in. You didn't even at sixteen."

My mind flew back to our time spent aboard _The Grace_ six years ago when Mick had been captain. I'd never imagined that Patrick had ulterior motives in regards to me back then. Yes; I likely thought he was using me but I never had imagined that I was a toy in someone's great game. "Tia Dalma," I stated coldly as I watched his expression.

"She'd have had you and the necklace back then if Mick hadn't stepped in. I went back to her after Mick sent me packing. What can I say, I was angry at you and him. He'd chosen some wretch of a country girl over his own brother. Tia Dalma knows who you really are; not who you think you are and not who your uncle thinks you are. That necklace is yours Fiona. It's strong now, so strong that when you landed in the water and washed up in Tortuga we all felt it. Imagine how strong it will be once you find the one you're destined to be with. You need to work out what your feelings are little miss and learn to harness them. I'm not blind and neither is Hawkins. Tell the Commodore how you feel. If you really are sharing his bed, chances are he'll help you. He might even share your feelings. If he does, then there won't be much that can beat you. I can't believe you don't even know who you really are; what you can do. If you love each other then you stand a chance, if you don't then both of you are doomed."

I was shaking my head, trying to rid it of all of the nonsense thoughts. "Patrick this is mad..."

He shrugged. "Well, we are Irish. Does he care for you? Are there feelings there?"

I laughed hollowly. "Patrick, how is a man like that to look at me? I'm serious now. I've helped him and he respects and trusts me because of it but he's never given me a reason to think that we are anything more than friends. That's how we parted when I decided to sail with you. I thought I'd never see him again. He loves another, still. She's haunting him even as she begins married life with another. She's a governor's daughter for Christ's sake! That's the kind of woman he should be with. Not me. He'd never look at me twice."

"You underestimate yourself," Patrick supplied immediately. "You're beautiful, with your mad hair and your runaway mouth. You have this unique unearthly appearance about you, particularly at night. When the moon is out and it catches your face, you almost glow in the dark like a lantern because you're so pale. Mick was never going to tell you that you were pretty, was he? He didn't want you to start thinking more of him than a friend. He was a fool not to. It's left you unprepared for when people do tell you. Like now," he said as he stepped forward and lifted my chin with one finger. "Don't look at the ground when people tell you stuff like that Fiona. That's how they know you're vulnerable; when you can't accept a compliment."

"I'm not vulnerable!" I snapped.

"No, 'course you're not." Patrick moved then, offering a swift kick to my bad knee that had me hissing in pain. I'd have toppled over into the knee deep water if he'd not wrapped his arms around my waist. "But if what you say is true and there are no feelings on his part, then you've got another option. You and I could go off together with the necklace. You liked me well enough once did you not? What about it then?" Patrick didn't seem to hear the sudden sloshing of water or see the swinging light of a lantern as it emerged from the staircase at the end of the gangway. I shoved against Patrick as he tried to pull me flush against him and finally resorted to elbowing him swiftly on the chin to get him to release me. "We could ask that Mr. Hawkins to release us, and I'll get him those coins Townshend gave me. We'd make a good team you and me-"

"As if I'd go anywhere with you!"

"You've been so alone all this time though. Wouldn't it be nice-"

"Open this door now Hawkins!" James had appeared, sloshing through the water as he dragged Mr. Hawkins with him by a fistful of his coat. "Now!"

Patrick moved away from me quickly as James's eyes scanned us. I often wonder what he thought when he appeared on the other side of the bars and saw me pressed against them, with Patrick hovering not far from me. He's never really told me, but I think he knows that nothing untoward happened. Let's be honest, I'd have clawed Patrick's eyes out if he'd seriously tried anything. When Hawkins produced the keys and fumbled with them, James snatched them from him and made quick work of finding the right key and opening the cell door. I didn't miss the murderous flash in Hawkins's eyes as his plan was scuppered right in front of him. James leaned in and held his hand out to me which I took straight away. His other hand came up to grip my elbow as he glanced down at my feet to ensure I didn't trip when stepping over the threshold again. His attention to such a thing touched me a little even though I knew he'd likely been taught to do such a thing from a young age. He was a gentleman after all. Once I was on the other side the door was slammed shut again and I chanced a look at Patrick, but his stare remained impassive. He shrank back into the shadows of the cell so that I could no longer clearly see his eyes.

"Mr. Hawkins, from the day you have set foot aboard this ship I have struggled to overlook your countless presentations of poor comportment! I believe I have given you fair chance time after time to improve such lacking behaviour but I believe this is the final straw. To ignore your captain and commander's direct orders flouts every precedent set by the royal navy. I will not stand for such insubordination. I am afraid your contract of employment as guidance officer aboard this ship is hereby terminated. When you reach Port Royal you shall disembark for the last time. I shall not permit you to undertake a voyage back to London with us. You will find an alternative mode of transport. Is that understood?"

James moved forwards then, forcing Hawkins to take a step back. I'd not really seen James angry or without a firm grip upon his usually controlled emotions. His hands were balled into fists, his emerald green eyes sparkling as they stared mercilessly at Hawkins. His breathing was uneven, his face a little paler in general even though his cheeks were flushed. I marvelled yet again how he had managed to remain so put together in terms of his clothing. His wig and hat were still in place and the starched white shirt sleeves remained devoid of any stains whatsoever. His cream waistcoat with it's fine gold embroidery seemed to almost glisten in the lantern light. I realised then, that I still wore his coat around my shoulders and I was breathing in the smell of the starch used to stiffen his collar, the shaving cream he used and that unique almost floral kind of spice that underpinned the concoction and made it undoubtedly his. I wanted to bury my nose in the coat and sniff, but I did not. I think that might have pushed the boundaries a little too far. He turned back to me when Hawkins didn't readily reply and motioned for me to move along towards the stairs.

"I'm not one of your crew, Sir." Hawkins stated mildly as we turned away from him. "I was never bound to this ship. I always was free to come and go as I please."

James turned back and for a second I was not entirely sure of what he might do. I think it crossed my mind that James might have hit Hawkins, but he seemed to be regaining his control again. "No Mr. Hawkins, you are not a member of my crew. You are a guest though, and I am captain. If I require your disembarkation of this ship, you shall endeavour to meet such requirements for the safety of all else aboard. I will not tolerate any more arguments upon the matter. Either you shall leave this ship and find another mode of travel, you you can acquaint yourself with this cell and Mr. O'Malley."

James turned back to me then, grasping my elbow tightly to help me wade through the water. When we reached the fourth step and were finally free of the pull of the water I sagged a little against the wooden panelling in relief for a second before I moved again.

"Forgive me, but would you like some help?" James had stopped on the step above me and was watching me intently. What on earth was he intending to do if I said yes; carry me? The thought of such a thing made me laugh out loud, which I swiftly passed off as incredulity.

"Sure what would I be needing help for Commodore?" I replied in a slightly teasing voice. "Catch yourself on, I can manage some steps."

I set off again and at a much faster pace as if to prove my point. I knew by his eyes that he had not wanted to ask such a question. He had likely known what answer I would give him, after all. He had asked though because he knew that if I really did need the help, I would never have admitted it. We trudged on, my water logged shoes and trouser ends making the steps all that more difficult as my knee protested painfully. I did not shake off his firm grip of my elbow though, for I had not the heart to. It was not so much about leaning on him as being anchored to him. To be back with him after those weeks apart and a trying day made me somehow feel at peace with the world and everything that had happened. I knew not how things would ultimately end, but I trusted the man who walked at my elbow enough to know that I'd not face any harm while he was around.

Just as I glanced up and saw that we were almost above deck I began to contemplate how I would hide my exhaustion and stiffness after such a climb when we emerged onto the main deck. I did not want him to know that I was in pain or that I sorrily wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep in my small little cabin aboard _The Surgence_ that had somehow become a comfort to me. I never got to have such thoughts. Just was we placed our feet on the main deck I felt James stiffen beside me, his grip of my elbow tightening. When I brought my gaze up and glanced around the sight that met me had me recalling what Hawkins had said about the crew. They were all present, watching us with avid interest as if we might burst into song and dance. I knew then that Hawkins had been letting his mouth run away with him.

"They know who I am," I whispered softly so that only James could hear. He made no reply. "Hawkins must have told them."

"Orders Sir?" The ever faithful Gillette appeared on James's other side, glancing around sharply at the crew. The other officers began to close ranks, falling in around us to block any form of attack. Those six officers stood little chance against the might of the whole crew and James surely knew that. he'd have to give me up to them. As I counted though, I realised there were more than six surrounding us. There was the other man who wore the uniform of a lieutenant, and the man in civilian clothing with the curly dark hair who also stood with the officers. James tugged on my elbow, propelling me slowly behind him and he began to step backwards.

"Fall back," came his soft order. I moved backwards myself as he moved one step to the right, blocking me entirely from the crew's view. James only stopped when we reached the door that led into the corridor through which his cabin could be found. I could feel his nerves as he stared around him at the crew that he had thought he could rely on. Only his officers had remained loyal. "Miss O'Connell," he called to me over his shoulder. "Perhaps now would be the time to suggest that you make your way to my cabin with as much haste as you can muster." I wasn't sure of anything in that moment, and I did not even know if he'd come with me or stay up on deck. "NOW!"

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona and James must avoid a mutiny all while sorting out all that has passed since they were last together.**_


	35. Chapter Thirty Five - Irish Whiskey

_**Thanks as ever for the reviews! Finally after a few chapters James and Fiona are reunited and there's obviously going to have to be a conversation between them both. I think this was one of my favourite chapters to write as it was one of the first scenes I had in my head that I then built this story around. As the chapter name might suggest, I think there's a comfort aspect to this chapter, with Fiona finally back with someone that she trusts to tell the truth. There are quite a few moments between them both in this chapter that I love, and I hope you do too. In my plans this chapter and the few after it all amounted to one paragraph so to have fleshed it out into three chapters is scary! I feel that there are pieces I cannot leave out though!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty Five - Irish Whiskey**_

I didn't need telling twice. I turned and hobbled down the steps that led me into the lantern lit corridor and hurried along, the pain in my knee almost forgotten as my nerves took over. I registered James's hurried footsteps behind me and the yelling of the officers as they tried to restore calm out on deck. I hurtled into James's cabin and turned in the middle of the floor just in time to watch him use his grip of the door frame as a pivot to turn in the doorway. Some of the crew had broken free of the officers and were in the corridor, their voices rapidly growing in volume as they approached. James slammed the door shut and turned the key in the lock just a second before a hard body collided with it from the other side. I Jumped a little at the sound. James took a few steps away from the door with the key in his hand as we heard the officers entering the fray outside.

"Forgive me," James addressed me as he seemed to have realised what he had just done. He held up the key and nodded towards the locked door. "Are you agreeable to this?"

It was rather a curious question for him to ask considering the rabble on the other side of the door that wanted to get their hands on me. Even if I had not been entirely comfortable being locked in a cabin alone with him, I had little choice in the matter. I nodded slowly, still trying to catch my breath. For a few moments we waited as the shouting and occasional knocks to the door continued before it seemed that the officers were gaining an upper hand. I'd been alone with James many times before, but that was before I'd realised the gravity of my feelings for him. How was I to act towards him to ensure that he did not suspect I thought differently of him now, that he in fact meant a very great deal to me? It did not occur to me that he too might find it an odd situation. I thought he would be much too concerned with the goings on outside.

"You should just give me over to them," I announced suddenly before I'd even thought about what I was going to say. "How are you to captain such a crew when they stand against me. Just give me over to them and get them back onside. I'll figure something out."

The perplexed glance he threw me as he moved further into the room towards me was not one I was accustomed to. There was a wildness in his eyes still as he tried to catch his breath, as if the events of the last few moments had somehow released some new version of the man that I had yet to meet. "Do you think I would even consider such a thing?"

I shrugged. "It would save your ship and you a lot of trouble."

He smiled wryly then. "I have no doubt of your resourcefulness Miss O'Connell but you might also consider the trouble you might find yourself in if I did as you suggested. No; trouble though you might be, you are safest with me." He stuffed the key into his waistcoat pocket and moved towards me again and I realised he wanted to catch sight of me in the light of the candles and lanterns around the cabin. I realised then what a sight I must be, covered in blood and exhausted beyond belief. I tried not to squirm under his scrutiny and pushed down the temptation to raise my hands and see there the evidence of the destruction I had caused with them. Something within me thought I might never be able to forget that I had indeed once killed a man and his blood had coated my hands. I pushed the thought away as James moved suddenly, retreating to the corner of his cabin and picking up a bundle from a chair as he moved. He prised open some of the wooden panelling with one hand and I was swiftly reminded that I had once glimpsed him appear from within the cavity there. He motioned for me to approach him and I did, feeling that my apprehension was unfounded.

Beyond the wooden panelling was what I had first thought; a small washroom. A chest of drawers took up one side of the cupboard space and placed on top was a jug and a large washbowl. "Here, for your hands." James reached in and filled the bowel with water from the jug and then placed the bundle down beside it. "Yours, I believe?" His question drew my attention to the bundle which was so neatly folded that for a second I did not register that it was in fact some of my own clothing.

"How...?"

"They were found aboard _The Grace_. I thought you might have a need for them." My mind jarred as I imagined James coming across Patrick on the sea, and one of his thoughts had apparently been for me. It had not yet dawned on me but in those few seconds where James disappeared and returned to the cupboard with a candle that he set on a protruding shelf that he might have made such a journey and attacked Townshend's fleet in the hopes of rescuing me. I rid my mind of such a thought before I could even dwell upon it as James retreated, letting the panelled door swing closed behind him. Townshend was another prize for James to add to his list. If he wanted to make admiral, he needed to forgo loyalty and fealty to men like Townshend who would only seek to abuse his position. He might face questioning from the King though when it was heard that has favourite had been sunk to the seabed.

It was only when I was alone in the solitary light of one candle that I realised there was a small mirror facing me above the chest of drawers. I dared not stretch my legs up to look into it just yet and instead focused on my blood stained hands. I tore off the shirt that was also stained with blood and slipped out of my shoes to take off my loose trousers. Of course it now occurs to me that under any other circumstances I might have felt a little embarrassed or nervous at the realisation that I was undressed and James was just a few feet away beyond that door hidden in the panelling. At the time though my mind was so befuddled that I didn't give it any thought. I washed my hands thoroughly, holding them up to the candlelight to ensure I had not missed any patches before I washed them again for good measure. I stared down at the bowel of water that was stained red with blood and decided against washing the rest of my body with it as the thought made me a little queasy.

I took stock of my knee as I pulled the bundle of carefully folded clothing towards me. I wasn't sure what I was seeing but I thought I could make out the faintest of bruises forming there to the side of the scarring. I dreaded to think what it would look like in daylight the next day. Suddenly weary of gazing at the old injury, I pulled on my old skirt that I found so comfortable and a worn shirt of mine that was mercifully clean. Without much thought at all I slipped James's coat back on over my shoulders and it was then that I realised I would have to take stock of my appearance. I slipped my feet back into my flimsy shoes and braced my hands against the end of the chest of drawers before I raised myself onto my toes to gaze into the mirror that had evidently been placed at James's height.

A ghost stared back at me. Now being Irish, my skin is not as tanned as you might think it would be after years at sea. There's some colour there mind, but I was never as tanned as Mick had become. What little sun I held in my complexion had vanished to be replaced by a sickly pallor that was even paler than I'd been as a child back in Ireland. My eyes were sunken and surrounded by dark circles that threatened to spill over into my hollow cheeks. I plucked at them to try and at least raise a slight blush but it vanished almost as soon as it appeared. My hair was as wild as ever but I resented the thought of running my hands though it. I took hold of the stained shirt again and tore off a strip from the cleanest sleeve to wrap around my hair and keep it out of my face. I could not forego returning to the cabin for much longer and so I sucked in a few steadying breaths before I took my stained clothing and the candle James had brought for me and pushed open the door again.

I emerged into the cabin to find James standing over his desk as he read something. The sight made me stop in my tracks for I'd seen Townshend in precisely the same stance a few hours ago. I was unnerved by such an image floating to mind and I could not seem to dispel it until James approached me and took the candle from my hand and placed it on the small table that his fancy chairs were clustered around. I dropped my hastily folded bundle of stained clothing down into one of the chairs for something to do as I felt James's eyes upon me again. he was searching my person with a concentrated gaze and I knew not what for.

"I am sorry," he said eventually, "That I passed you over into the care of Mr. Hawkins. Forgive me but I thought perhaps he had a care for you. I know he is a trickster and a sneak but I did not anticipate how he might behave. I thought he would have been pleased to ensure your welfare and safety."

I shrugged off his apology. "He might have been," I offered up quietly, "If he hadn't known who I am."

"Sit, please," James announced suddenly then with a gesture to the couch as if he was scolding himself for forgetting his manners. I sat as instructed, glad to take the weight off my knee which was beginning to throb. "The question is, how did he come by such information?"

"He says you told him." The look James threw me then was one of such incredulity that I hastened to offer up an opinion of my own. "But that is just what he told me. I did not think that you would willingly have. Perhaps he overheard you?"

James seemed to want to deny such a theory for a few seconds before he came to a realisation. "I suppose there is the chance that he might have done just so. Forgive me again but I did confide your secret to a friend of mine; the Lieutenant in charge of the fleet that accompany us currently. I did so willingly, but only because Ambrose Beauchamp is a cousin of mine. I trust him implicitly. He will not speak of what I have told him to anyone. You will have seen him on deck, standing alongside my officers."

I nodded slowly even though I had not really caught a good look at this cousin that James had never spoken of before. James moved then, approaching the table that stood before me as his hand delved into his pocket. He set the blade he had presented me with on the table swiftly and turned away, as if to give me a private moment of reflection. I stared at the knife that had been cleaned since I had last seen it and I had the overwhelming urge to push it away from me. I'd never thought I'd be wielding a blade like it, or causing serious harm to those around me with it. I shuddered as I heard the clinking of glass from the side of the room and my finger nails dug into my palm. It was then that I recalled the gash in the palm of my hand. The force of my nails pressing into it had caused it to bleed again. I reached over to the stained shirt again and tore another strip off the cleaner sleeve. Wrapping the cut tightly, I found my shaking hands fumbling as I tried to tie a knot.

"Is he dead?" I asked wearily as I sensed James's approach again.

There was a steady silence for a few seconds before he answered, as if he was contemplating my reaction. "Yes. Yes he is."

"I..." I sucked in a breath as I tried to get my words out. "I've never...never...killed someone..."

"Yes I can see that," James said with a nod towards my trembling hands. Was that why I could not tie the knot? James set down the glasses of whiskey and rounded the table towards me. "Allow me." He sat down beside me on the couch and held out his hand. I did not feel that same rush of nerves this time, most likely because with the warmth of his coat around my shoulders I was already enveloped in his smell. It was as if he had been right at my side since he'd placed it around me aboard _The King's Inquisitor_. I placed my hand in his gingerly, the skin of his fingers delving below the cuff of his coat sleeve to gently grasp my wrist. His hands were warm against my freezing cold skin and they were not as smooth as would be expected. I was swiftly reminded of how much of a team player he was. He considered himself as a part of his crew as well as it's captain. His other hand came up to untie my makeshift bandage and he loosened it entirely to spare a glance at the gash in my palm before he slowly and methodically began to wrap it again, taking much more care than I had done. It was as if hew knew that such slow gentleness might lull my senses a little and calm me but I was no longer thinking of Townshend or his ships at the bottom of the sea. My head was only filled with the man beside me and of how much a fool he might think me if he knew how much I revered him. It was a mark of his good breeding that he would not laugh openly at me. He would be sympathetic to my face but he'd likely call me all sorts in his own head. What right had I after all, to even begin to have such thoughts about a man so above my station in wealth and in decency?

When my hand was again tightly and securely wrapped he lowered my arm so that it rested lightly in his lap and he tied the knot tightly with both hands. His touch was so soft, his skin so warm against my own freezing hand that I resented it's absence before he'd even pulled away. He rounded the table again and I felt a coldness encase me that had been lost when he'd been near. He pushed one of the glasses of whiskey towards me with a soft, "Drink."

I glanced down at the amber liquid and saw that he'd almost filled the glass. He'd given himself a much smaller measure of whiskey. I reached out and took the tumbler into my still shaking hands and drank deeply as he did the shame. He had turned slightly away as he did so, and he did not notice the shock that washed over my features. A taste so welcoming and heartwarming washed over me as I let the whiskey caress the back of my throat in swallowing slowly. _Irish Whiskey._ He'd made port at some point then, and he'd gone in search for specifically Irish whiskey which was not always easy to find. Why had he done that? I wanted to think upon it more but decided against it. I had such an overwhelming urge then to stand and move towards him, to reach out for him and have him hold me. I can't tell you of a time before that when I had been embraced by someone who simply did so because they wanted to comfort or nurture me. We've all experienced that sense of longing at some point in our lives I think, when you are so worn down and weary of life that there are only a select few who might succeed in comforting you. In truth it's possible to be surprised in such a situation. A simple hug from a stranger might suffice if they mean well, and have no motive other than to share a moment of affection and support. It's quite a common thing between Irish women. Sure don't they all say we're mad; and perhaps that's why we all feel our emotions that much more keenly. There's nothing like a hug for comfort and reassurance, especially in those moments where it's unexpected and you didn't even know you needed that support. Let's face it though, James was not the hugging kind back then. I thought I'd never get to be held again by someone I cared deeply about. I thought I'd depart the world devoid of that which might have soothed my soul immensely.

Whatever time we might have left to spend together I'd savour. I'd savour the taste of whiskey from my home and the comfort of being near someone I trusted for however long it lasted because it would surely end sooner than I thought. I'd killed a peer of the realm and although James was trying to sink his ships, I was not sure if he'd able to let my crime go unpunished. He'd have to make some sort of example of me. He could not be seen to pick and choose who he punished depending on who they might have harmed. Of course I'd not considered in my mind that by the end of the evening I'd have killed Townshend with my own hands. It was not a premeditated act but one of self defence. That should make little difference in the real world though. I was the last person James should be saving from the noose; an Irish country girl who'd already been running with pirates. I was the kind of person he was seeking to punish after all.

I felt my mood sinking rapidly. Any kind of hope I'd had when he'd taken my hand in Townshend's cabin vanished from my mind as I realised my fate. James might announce it carefully and in the nicest way possible, but there was no escaping it. I found I was not sorry though, that Townshend was no longer able to terrorise anyone else. Perhaps some girl on a long off shore was now that little bit safer due to my actions. The sea was certainly safer. I could meet my fate readily knowing that I'd done some good, that my life wasn't an entire waste. My mind swam to thoughts of my parents then and of how I might soon get to be with them, to forget the pain and anguish that had occurred in the time we had spent apart. I'd forgive everything because I longed to see them so much. I thought I might manage to part with James quite well when I considered that a man like him was not for a woman like myself. He'd marry a fine bit of skirt, to be sure. One that could run a large house in London with little schooling at all and hold the fort whilst he was away at sea. That was not me. No, a woman like myself would ruin his life.

James says that as he turned from his desk back to me, he saw with his own eyes the darkness descending over my mind, so much so that he stopped moving for a few seconds to watch. He did not know what it was I thought of but he could glean from my expression that something deeply troubled me. He began to worry that perhaps Townshend had succeeded in ravishing me in that cabin before I'd had the chance to defend myself. That was the turmoil he thought I suffered. Still, he made no mention of it. Perhaps if I had voiced my true mind then things might have been different. We might have worked things out sooner and more beneficially or we might have complicated things even more so. I guess we will never know.

Eventually James approached again, slowly crossing the room to sit opposite me. I was well aware of his careful movements, as if he was hesitant that he might spook me if he presented his usual efficiency. His hand gently caressed the table as he pushed it towards me and then moved it back again, leaving a piece of folded parchment before me.

"What's this?" I asked him without making a move to reach for it.

He levelled a determined stare at me as he appeared to be reassuring himself that what he was doing was entirely the right thing. "A name."

The gravity of his answer was not lost on me. I couldn't for the life of me fathom why he'd chosen now to provide me with such information. Was it guilt for what I was about to endure once we reached port? Or was it something deeper even than that? I gingerly lifted the folded parchment, opening it as I brought it closely enough to read in the light of the candles. His looping cursive told me he'd not deliberated as he wrote the name. he'd been sure of his decision even if it caused him no end of worry.

 _Cutler Beckett._

I knew that name, did I not? I'd heard it spoken before even though I knew not who this man was. If James was right though, I did know what he looked like. I'd never forget the face of the man who'd shot my friends and myself; who had stood over me and plucked the musket ball from my shoulder with little care or precision. I'd never forget the evil creature I'd sworn to seek out. All of those grief filled emotions seemed to slip away though as I recalled James sitting before me. This Cutler Beckett was not at hand and likely would never be. Here before me was a man who had evidently given up a great deal in disclosing that information to me, and I wanted to know why.

"Why now?" I held his gaze as I placed the parchment back on the table. "Why not before when I asked you?"

He took his time in determining what answer he should give and who can blame him? I was not to know just how much he was risking in giving me a name, and what he said to the effect would also remain of importance. "I think Miss O'Connell we shall both have to admit to letting our judgement be clouded at certain points. I think it is a fair assumption, given all that has passed. Indeed when you did first ask me for such a name I did not consider providing it as you were in the throws of grief. You were not aptly dealing with the passing of your friends. To give you such an allowance as to know the man who had caused their deaths would have only worsened your state I believe. We were at sea after all, and what could you have done to lessen such feelings of anger and resentment but act upon your own self. No, I think in all instances I thought more of your safety and soundness of mind than of your right to know the truth. Later on when you asked I was sure I did not wish to see a sound and intelligent mind such as your own corrupted by thoughts of revenge. To think of retaliation of such a crime; such a loss is a very dark place indeed. Perhaps I underestimate you Miss, but I did not think you capable of such anger. Perhaps I was mistaken, but nevertheless I think I did not really consider that you deserved the truth. I see that now. After all that has passed of course you deserve my honesty in all matters. After the events of today and such an ordeal I can be in no doubt of your deserving the truth and of being fully capable of managing your own emotions in regards to it."

"And what would you have me do with this truth Commodore?" I asked as I reached forward and lifted the parchment again. There was something in me that was still unsure of his meaning.

"You must do as you see fit, Miss. It is neither incumbent upon me, nor justified that I direct you. I might be relied upon to give aid depending on the circumstances but I cannot tell you how to act. Indeed I am still of the opinion Miss O'Connell; that you will do as you choose, regardless of my instruction."

I wasn't quite understanding him. I shook my head lightly. "What can I rightly do though? I am aware of the man's name now and I've always recalled his appearance. I can be wary of him. What chance would I ever have of avenging the death of my friends against such a man? Even if I were free it would be a mean feat."

"Free?" James questioned as he reached behind him for the decanter and re-filled both of our glasses. Yet again he'd given me double the amount that he'd given himself. "Why should you not be free? Has something occurred that I do not know of?"

I threw him a confused expression. "I killed a man! I have to answer for that!"

"There is no one to attest to it," James replied swiftly. "The survivors amongst Townshend's crew are ensconced within the brig of my cousin's ship. I doubt they are in the ideal position to have anyone with any kind of leverage who might believe them. Besides the fact, they saw nothing."

"N...Nothing?" I stammered incredulously. "They'll have seen you bringing me onto deck with his blood all over me!"

James smiled knowingly then and drained his glass of whiskey. I itched to do the same but I wanted to hear his smug answer first, for I was sure it was coming. "No, they won't have. You were wearing my coat."

I felt my eyes widening as I stared at him, realising for the first time that he had not only been acting the gentleman but what Jack Sparrow might have called a savvy sailor. He'd not only acted to ensure that I was warm enough, but to shield that which would have given away what I'd done. He seemed amused by my silence as his eyes raked over my face, taking in my surprise. I averted my eyes from his and drank deeply from the glass of whiskey before me. As the amber liquid burned down my throat I tried to think of the last time I'd eaten anything. I was certainly drinking on an empty stomach and in my state of nerves that was not a desirous predicament to find myself in. In truth I'd have loved nothing more than to swallow the whole contents of James's decanter in the hopes that I might find some relief in rest, but I would not ever consider doing so in his presence. He must have thought me wild enough without seeing that side of me. I tried to place my hand over my now empty glass as James moved to re-fill it but he was too quick for me. I knew what such an amount of whiskey would do to my restless mind if we were to continue talking in such a way and so I let the glass sit untouched.

"So...what now?" I asked hesitantly as James drained another glass of whiskey.

"We've set a course for Port Royal," James countered. "I am aware Miss that you have a desire to return home and I will endeavour to see to such an occurrence as soon as I can." Was he saying he was going to sail me all the way home himself? Was he not going to ensure I faced punishment for my actions in some way? "Unfortunately due to recent events, I am required in Port Royal post haste to deal with certain matters, one of those being the presence of Cutler Beckett, who is attempting to oust Governor Swann's authority there."

I was shaking my head. "I'm afraid Commodore, I still don't quite understand. Won't you face some trouble for what's happened to Townshend?" I was going to mention Beckett but decided against it at the last second. Of course his Elizabeth resided in Port Royal and he would want to see to her safety before anything else.

He sighed heavily as if the topic of conversation was wearing upon his nerves. "Miss O'Connell, no one saw what happened in that cabin. No one saw you emerge from it with Townshend's blood upon you. As far as the world will be concerned, Townshend chose to go down with his own ship as many captains do. There is little more to discuss."

"But you haven't even asked me what happened in that cabin!" I cried. "How can you just decide I was in the right?"

James fixed me with such an intense look then that I wanted nothing more than for the couch I sat upon to swallow me up. "Do I need to ask? Should I consider that you might feel comfortable telling me what came to pass? I know of Townshend's reputation with regards to women. Indeed you told me so yourself that you are not hurt but I think Miss that you are so self deprecating that you'd not think it an importance to inform me if you were injured. Your hand for example, was not an injury you mentioned."

"It's just a cut," I supplied meekly but he shook his head.

"Even so, it is an injury all the same." His face changed then, his expression pained as I realised he was trying to find the words to convey his thoughts. "Forgive me Miss but...no man of any standing will find these words easy to express. I...would... I would not ask you but for my assurance of your own well being; but if Townshend or anyone else has harmed you in a way that...that..." He struggled for the words, unable to look me in the eyes as his gaze wandered the cabin in search of the right way to place his thoughts. I knew what he wanted to ask me a second or two before he spoke, and found myself feeling rather embarrassed and ashamed even though I knew nothing untoward had happened. "Forgive me but if anyone...if you have been compromised, I would know of it. I can send for a doctor when we reach Port Royal. I can..."

His voice trailed off as he pointedly stared at something over my shoulder rather than at me. _Compromised;_ such a cold word. Used by anyone else in such a context I might have taken offence at it. With James though, I understood that he had again proved his worth as a gentleman by not wanting to use a more descriptive word in the presence of a woman. Part of me wished he'd used the first word that had come to mind instead of saving my feelings and another part of me was glad that he'd taken such a care. I might not have been raped, but I almost had been. Although I knew I needed to keep remembering that I'd fought back, I also needed to be aware of what men could do to women of a lesser power than themselves. I needed to always recall it, always be on my guard. feeling sorry for myself and rather tainted even by such an unsuccessful attempt had me baffled by the fact that James clearly thought he was responsible in some way.

I tried to smile reassuringly at him then. He'd saved my life quite a few times, and he was in no way more responsible for the days events than I was. "No," I confirmed finally. "That didn't happen. He tried to that is, but..." _I'd killed him instead._ My unspoken words seemed to register with James and he nodded his understanding.

There came a sharp knock at the door and it startled me out of my gloomy thoughts. I'd not realised how silent things had become outside. James appeared apprehensive as he stood and glanced towards the door. "Drink that," he said with a nod to the glass full of whiskey before me. "It will help you to sleep."

I held my breath as James approached the door retrieved the key from his pocket to open it just a crack. In the sliver of candlelight I glimpsed Gillette's face before he and James shared a hurried whispered conversation through the small opening. Then James was locking the door again and moving towards me. "It appears my officers have the crew in hand. They have managed to calm them down well enough with the promise of a thorough discussion upon the morrow. It appears the storm has also calmed. All things aside, my crew will want to receive their due payment at the end of the voyage. If they act against me I shall not be in a position to provide it. For the time being I think we may say that peace is restored Miss O'Connell. I do not think it wise for you to be wandering the ship though at any rate. Stay within my cabin and you may take my bed to rest a while." When I tried to protest he held up his hand to halt me. "I have paperwork to complete Miss O'Connell, and therefore have a bed to offer. Do not tell me you are not exhausted beyond belief. You look as if one light breeze might knock you over. Go, rest."

He turned towards his desk and I watched as he sat, sure that when he did I'd find myself the one being watched. I turned towards the well made bed at the other side of the cabin, astounded that he'd want me anywhere near it considering I was covered in blood not so long ago. It did look inviting though, especially as my knee began to protest horribly. I crossed the cabin slowly, well aware of the precise moment when James's gaze landed upon my back. When I reached the bed and grasped the thick wool coverlet I glanced up at him to find him watching me intently as I knew he would be. He nodded once and then turned his gaze to the paperwork before him. I could still tell he was watching me out of the corner of his eye though. I sat down onto the luxuriously soft mattress and shuffled back. I lifted my legs to swing them up too, unable to help the need to place a hand behind my bad knee to give it a little support. With the coat still around me and James's coverlet pulled up to my chin, I'd never smelt a more heady mix of him. I was surrounded by it. Perhaps it was that comfort and my contentedness at being safe and secure in his presence, and the whiskey and the stress and exhaustion of the days events that had me drifting off to sleep as my head gently pressed into the pillow.

* * *

 _ **I know we haven't had a moment of real intimacy between these two yet but I don't feel it would be natural if it happened too quickly! It is on the cards within the next lot of chapters though!**_

 _ **This chapter was about reiterating the trust James and Fiona have with one another, so that the future chapters will fall into place nicely! In the next one, we'll see how the morning after pans out and how James and Fiona try to deal with all of the obstacles that they are facing!**_


	36. Chapter Thirty Six - A Notion

_**Sorry for the delay with this chapter! Writers block on future ones forced me to hold off on posting a little. Thanks as ever for the reviews from the guests, and Icar372; interesting thoughts on Patrick but we'll have to wait and see how far he will be prepared to go! As for will Turner, I'm not decided on where he's going yet; you're right in that although for the most part he's a good person, I think he'd be prepared to do anything if what he wants is at stake. I'm glad you liked the insert of Ambrose who I suddenly felt was needed as I wrote that last chapter. I feel like he may crop up in future as I like him so much! Loving your notes on all of the chapters as always!**_

 _ **I have started loosely planning out a sequel/second part to this story but I'm not quite sure what form it will take yet. I'm undecided as to whether I should carry on under this same story as it would all still fit under the title or to start a new one altogether. I'd be glad to hear anyone's thoughts on that!**_

 _ **I feel like the chapters that are mainly dialogue between James and Fiona are easiest for me to write and are the ones I always end up liking best! In this chapter, Fiona reveals a little more about herself to James, but how will he react?**_

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 _ **Chapter Thirty Six - A Notion of Certainty**_

Hands grabbed at me in my sleep, scratching the skin of my neck and chest as they held me down, so much so that when I finally woke I could not move at all. I lay in silence staring up at the low wooden panelled ceiling and tried to calm my racing heart as I recalled where I was. Most of the candles must have burnt down as the room was lit only by a gentle amber glow and it was still very early in the morning as no light seemed to permeate through the window. The scratching of quill upon parchment drew my attention inwards towards the rest of the cabin and I rolled onto my side soundlessly. James appeared not to have noticed that I had woken and I was glad of that. It afforded me the chance to process my thoughts without any intrusion and to observe him from afar. He'd vacated his desk and had moved to the dinning table where he had lain all of his work out before him, facing away from me. He'd also divested of his wig and waistcoat since I'd fallen asleep and sat in only his breeches and shirt. He'd rolled the soft linen sleeves up to reveal paler wrists that never caught the sun. I traced the outline of his strong shoulders beneath his shirt, imagining my hands exploring the plains of his back.

I shook my head lightly to dispel the image after a second or two and rolled onto my back again. After everything that had passed the day before, I did not need to complicate matters. James had saved my life yet again and I did his decency little justice by having such salacious thoughts. I forced my mind back onto the topic of what was to become of me. If I was lucky enough to be shielded by James's careful twisting of the truth concerning Townshend, I'd be back at the beginning again. I'd be in search of a ship and a crew I could trust. This time though, I did not have Patrick O'Malley to rely upon. I'd been a fool to think of taking up with him really. He had proved himself to be the scoundrel that Mick had always thought him to be. Although I'd seen glimmers of the Patrick that had lured me in at sixteen during those moments down in the brig, I was suddenly coming to realise that it was not Patrick who had changed or grown any more callous. I was simply wiser to all of his flirtations. I had more of an understanding of what each of his actions meant. I knew when his words meant there was more that he wasn't saying. I'd grown wise to him, finally.

There was this sort of hollow sensation within my chest as James's quill continued to scratch over parchment. If I thought I'd been lost before when I'd been grieving for Mick, then it was really nothing compared to how I felt then. The problem was that I had all of these notions of what I wanted my life to be like. I was still coming to terms with the new emotions I'd been bombarded with since meeting James and it still confused me that when I examined my heart; somehow he was already there. In some way he could give me more than Mick ever could have done. I might have loved Mick but that was purely platonic. Even though I knew there was no hope I was foolish enough to consider what kind of life I'd have at James's side. I should have known better. Life is so unpredictable at the best of times that I really had no place imagining us together.

I rolled onto my back again and tried to calm my racing heart. I knew that I needed recover my equilibrium because I wasn't about to let James see me as some quivering wreck who couldn't control her emotions. He only appeared to notice that I was awake when I eventually sat up and adjusted my skirt beneath the coverlet so that I could swing my feet down to the floor. Without even putting weight upon my knee I could feel the strain there. For a few seconds I contemplated whether walking was indeed wise before I shook myself out of such a notion. James likely already thought many things of me but I was sure as hell not going to have him think I could not walk from one side of the room to the other.

I braced my hands against the wooden frame of the bunk and tried to force most of my weight onto my good leg as I slowly rose. I couldn't help the hiss of pain that escaped my mouth as I straightened my back. I dreaded to think how bruised and damaged my knee would appear in daylight and so I forwent the temptation to look. James turned slowly towards me then, finally aware that I was awake. That curious look was enough to dispel the thoughts of pain from my mind for a few seconds as I took in his shadowed features that were accentuated by the candlelight. He'd evidently not slept at all, and had spent rather a stressful night pouring over the paperwork before him on the table. he'd been running his hands through his hair because many of the strands had come loose from the ribbon that held them to fall about his face and frame it. I'd never seen him looking so dishevelled and human before. There was a part of me that liked it. I was assured that like me, he too had flaws. He was not always so carefully groomed and foreboding. There was a part of me though that longed for the James that presented himself to the main deck every day with a starched collar with his perfect waistcoat and great coat trimmed in gold thread and buttons. The wig and hat made him more foreboding certainly, but was that not the man I'd fallen for? It was his rigid and unwavering perseverance in all matters and the undefinable respect he had shown me that I'd come to treasure. He was of course a product of his upbringing, both at home and in the navy. I knew that not all navy men could boast of such an honourable character so evidently his home schooling had been exemplary and his parents had done a wonderful job as before me sat one of the best men I had ever met.

I heaved in a breath and forced myself to think of my painful knee again before I did something rather foolish. I began to move at a slow pace, my knee locking each time I stretched my leg. James said nothing, instead consenting to wait until I'd reached the table at my own pace. If he thought of offering help I think my determined expression would have told him to think better of doing any such thing. He likely knew I'd have snapped at him in reply. I reached the table at last, letting my hands fall to he back of a chair to hold my weight. There was something that told me not to sit, for once I did take a place a the table beside James there would certainly be no going back. As if I was fool enough to think that I was able to keep my feelings intact, to recover parts of them in time. I was as in love with him then as I am now. I was in far deeper than I'd ever realised and whether standing or sitting, he was still watching me with a concern that made something inside my chest flutter involuntarily.

I tore my gaze from him and to the table where the ship's log was lying open, the ink of a new and lengthy entry that took up one whole page on the left side still drying. Other scraps of parchment littered the table before us so much so that for a few seconds I did not notice a second entry on the opposite page. Looped and flowing, the handwriting there amassed to only one sentence on an otherwise blank page.

 _Miss Fiona O'Connell acquiesces to sail aboard The Surgence once again._

I knew instantly that he'd made no mention of my name in his account of what had occurred the evening before and I was grateful for it even if I did not know how wise a thing it was. "Are you sure you want to do that?" I asked softly, trying to skim over the cracks in my voice that expressed the overwhelming tiredness I still felt deep within my bones. "It's asking rather a lot of you when someone could easily come forward in the future to refute such an account."

James shook his head stiffly as his eyes caught mine. His gaze was so intense that I faltered a little, shifting away from him slightly under the pretence of looking at the other pieces of parchment. "You did not ask me to," he replied after a few seconds. "There will be no other witnesses as I confirmed last night. If there ever were, they would surely not stand to oppose a Commodore of the King's navy. They would have to be a fool to make such an attempt."

My mind flitted briefly to Jack Sparrow. "There are a lot of fools in this world Commodore. Sometimes I think I'm one of them." My mind was made up I think before he had spoken,but I finally sighed heavily and pulled out a chair. I was always going to take that seat because James was all that I had left in the world to cling on to. It was a dangerous and foolish game I considered playing but play it I would. "May I?" I pointed towards a blank piece of parchment that lay on the other side of the table and James reached for it swiftly. He slid it across the table until it was before me as I pulled the chair closer to the table again and sat. James moved his lone candle towards me as I reached for the quill resting in the ink pot and began to sketch.

I felt his eyes on the side of my face for a few moments as the quill traced backwards and forwards across the parchment and I wanted nothing more than to shake myself free of such intense scrutiny. It was almost as if his gaze was searing my skin from the inside out. I ignored James as best I could as I tried to sketch from memory the map that had lain on the table in Townshend's cabin the evening before. I'd glimpsed it for mere seconds but it was a vision ingrained upon my mind. I knew the original was likely at the bottom of the sea now, and if it wasn't then it was most certainly covered in it's owner's blood. I could readily imagine that all of the men who'd crossed that cabin after Townshend's death had entirely discounted it as something perishable. I was not so foolish. I know I've told you how connected I feel to maps and charts so I don't need to really explain how I felt there was something of importance there to be found in the ragged coastline I was sketching. I counted myself as lucky to have seen most of the map, with only the one corner of it being slightly crumpled and obscured from my view.

I knew when James finally turned his attention towards my hand and the quill I held for I heard his sharp intake of breath. He was silent for a few seconds more as he continued to watch what I sketched. "You really do have a skill with charts," he declared softly as I sensed him moving closer. His shoulder brushed mine as he turned so that he faced my side and not the table, edging towards me so that he cold get a closer look at the parchment. Did I wish he moved closer under such a pretence when really he simply wanted to be near me? I don't think so. I actually found his proximity to me in those moments quite off-putting. It almost made me dizzy. There was such a heady mix of him around me that I suddenly remembered I still wore his coat. I think we all know I had little intention of taking it off though. I hesitated a little as I felt a rush of his breath ghost across my cheek before he moved back into his chair a little. I stole a glance up at him and knew instantly that he'd not realised what he'd done. If it had been deliberate, I think things might have changed for us a little more rapidly. As it was, I put the thought from my mind and continued sketching. James said no more and seemed content to watch me until I finally replaced the quill to the ink pot and sat back in the chair.

"This was in Townshend's cabin," I supplied quietly. "It was on the table when...Well I think he was hoping I'd tell him where this map might lead him. I don't know of course. I've not seen a map like it before. The coastline is not one that's recognisable to me."

"Nor I," James replied quickly but it was an automatic reply. I knew he was not thinking of what my sketch detailed but the act of my sketching itself. "Forgive me Miss, but where did you learn to do that?"

I shook my head softly as I let myself look at him again. I was safe, for he was staring down at my sketch in apparent amazement. "I didn't learn so much as hone what I knew I could already do. Mick helped me. Why on earth do you think he kept me on? I might have gotten myself out of a scrape or two but I was no sailor when I first met Mick. He thought what I could do was important though, so he promised to help me. those first few months, perhaps even the first year with Mick was the most liberating of my life. I was expected to work hard though and I did. It kept my mind off other things. By the time I'd finally grown accustomed to my new way of life and could be left to my own devices, I stuck my head above the parapet and realised that all of those worries I'd not had time to dwell upon did not really matter so much. Mick gave me back my freedom."

James finally turned back to me, astonishment written all over his face. He tried to hide it as his eyes caught mine, but I could tell he was surprised. I often forget how people react to what I can do because It's not something I regularly disclose. "You drew this purely from memory?" he pressed unabashedly.

I nodded slowly, trying to gauge how much I should tell him. There was the nagging doubt in my mind that he might not believe me, but I told myself that we were both a little beyond that point. We'd both placed an immeasurable amount of trust in one another and that moment was not the time to forget all of what we had seen. Not to mention the fact I'd slept in his bed the evening before whilst he was only a few feet away. There was no more time for doubt between us both. "It's like a painting in my mind. I can still recall it very clearly. It's something I've always been able to do." I jerked my head backwards, motioning towards James's desk without looking at it. "Your desk for example. I can tell you where everything is placed right now without looking turning around. Some things have moved since the first time I ever came to this cabin of course. I can also tell you where everything was that night. I won't though. Mick found that annoying sometimes. I was never showing off but I couldn't help it if he lost something and I knew where I'd seen it last. I was only trying to help out..." I faltered a little as I tried to decide whether to take the conversation to a darker place or not. I no more wanted to bring up the evening before than it appeared James did, but I knew we needed to discuss certain matters. There were things I was going to have to tell him if I wanted our trust to continue. "Townshend knew what I could do. That's why he was after me. Who knows who else he might have told."

My shrug was met with a thoughtful gaze from James. "Townshend was no fool. If he knew of such a thing he'd want to keep it to himself. he'd not want anyone else to find out. It bears questioning though; how he found out. Perhaps Mr. O'Malley..."

I shook my head slowly. "I never told Patrick what I could do. That is, he knew I had some skills with charts. he knew there was no other reason for Mick to have kept me on. He did not know to what extent though. I am sure of that. It does make me wonder. First Jack Sparrow and then you thinking I knew where the crown might be. Just where did those notions come from when I'd never heard of such a thing before? I know Mick was quite the sailor but he wasn't stupid enough to go off on some wild goose chase for a mythical crown and everyone knew that."

"Much like the quest to find a mythical sword is it not?" James countered and I couldn't help wanting to grin at him.

"The thing is, we weren't looking for the sword, were we? I wasn't looking for anything in fact! Do not think I did not notice your clever evasion of the real issue Commodore. Just why did you think that I knew where that crown was? That's a question that deserves an answer as it just might help us work out what else we could be up against."

It was James's turn to appear sheepish as his eyes left mine and fell to the table surface again. "What would you say if I told you I had no answer to your question? I simply had this overwhelming notion of certainty where you were concerned, Miss O'Connell. It is not a feeling I am able to explain. You have proved yourself time and time again to be most trustworthy and an able sailor. Of course, you were also wearing that curious necklace of yours. Perhaps in the beginning all of that was a little confusing for myself. Not to mention the fact that Sparrow was more than confident of your knowledge of the crown. He may be a pirate and a fool, but he has a knack for noticing the obscure and unpredictable. I believe I might have invested perhaps a little too much time in analysing just what goes on within that pirate's mind."

"But nothing goes on in his mind," I mused lightly. "At least not normally. Haven't you noticed that everything he says and does is spur of the moment. It's how he lives. I don't quite know how he's managed to get by like that, but he has. I think if he started to think things through beforehand, he'd get a little lost. He works best when surprised. There's no secret to Jack Sparrow; not really. That's something to think on. None of what you see of him is planned or contrived-"

"How on earth could it be?" James interrupted incredulously. "Who on earth would wish to possess such mannerisms?"

"So it goes without saying that him thinking I'm some human map to that crown isn't really a reliable source. On the other hand, I suppose it is strange that he managed to keep that one thought steady in his head for more than a few seconds. I wonder where he got the notion from?" I shrugged then. "He's Jack Sparrow though. Who knows where he takes his notions from. Maybe he was hypnotised by my necklace too. I'd love to know why everyone thinks its so important. You know, Patrick thinks its an ancient piece of eight. Have you ever heard such nonsense?"

"Indeed I have," James replied swiftly as he reached forward and pulled my sketch towards him so that he could look at it more closely. "Concerning a tale of a mythical sword that could slay sea monsters."

I rolled my eyes. "What is it with all of you and treasure? You're so keen to distance yourself from the pirates you incarcerate that you are missing the most important thing Commodore. Why, you're almost one yourself! Chasing a man across the sea and into a hurricane? Chasing the myth of some magical crown when you've no proof it's even real? Letting yourself be bewitched by some fancy gold sword or my gold necklace? You're more like a pirate than you know. Lying about what happened to Townshend last night to keep me out of trouble when it could very well destroy your career and your good name; isn't that an act of piracy in itself? You're standing against everything you believe in when you lie for me. Don't think I'm not grateful. I just don't understand why you'd do it. It seems you've been so careful to toe the line and advance your career. Why tarnish all of that?"

James was toying with the corner of the piece of parchment I'd sketched on, rolling it between two lithe fingers. He didn't answer for a few moments and it did cross my mind that he might not answer at all. Then he turned back to me and smiled softly. "I believe I explained all of that last night. It was the right thing to do. You only acted in defence of yourself, that much was abundantly clear to me. Perhaps I have not always been capable of judging situations fairly or justly. My education and naval training somewhat crushed the teachings I recall from my childhood. I have recently been reminded that doing what is right whenever possible is a more favourable course than simply following orders. My views are somewhat changed than they were when I first arrived in the Caribbean. I have seen people reach for what they want even when all stood against them. There is no longer simply good and evil on my mind. There is so much more. Indeed, there is still much more for us to discuss. Townshend may no longer be an issue for us, but I fear more problems will arise in the near future. The name I supplied you with and your own potential future devoid of your uncle means that you have a fair few decisions of your own to make Miss O'Connell. I won't have you say that I influenced them overly so. Let us not rehash old discussions just yet for I think you will be eager for time alone to think. I cannot offer you that at present as I'm sure you are aware. Some time in Port Royal where you shall be relatively safe from any prying eyes might afford you that time though."

I gave him no answer and instead turned back to my sketch that now lay half hidden by James's arm. He was right of course. I had so many decisions to make but I doubted I'd ever fully know what my future held. How was I to make any serious decisions when I felt so lost. I had lost Patrick and Mick. I had also likely lost the friendship of those pirates, whether they managed to escape and reclaim their freedom or not. In their eyes I would still be a traitor, even more so because James and I had somewhat struck up a friendship of sorts. That might irritate Jack.

A soft knock upon the cabin door brought us both out of our reverie and James immediately stood and crossed the cabin as if he had been expecting the interruption. I tuned my attention to the window and was shocked to find how much time had passed. The sun had not yet risen but we had reached dawn. Light was beginning to filter into the room and was dismissing the need for a candle. I stayed sitting as Gillette slipped into the cabin and carried out a whispered and hurried conversation with James by the door. It might have bothered me some months earlier that they spoke in hushed tones, but now I was so sure of James and his honour that I knew I'd not have cause to worry about him badmouthing me under his breath. I pulled the wool coat tighter around me and took up the quill again to retrace the sketch I'd made some time earlier.

When Gillette took his leave James began to ready himself for the day ahead. He was sure that his crew had been subdued enough to accept whatever it was he put to them. They wanted payment for their hard work upon such a voyage and they knew they'd not receive it if they betrayed James. It still distressed me a little that the crew were in fact my uncle's hired men even if James reassured me that I'd face no trouble. I was still advised to remain in his cabin though throughout the day with the door locked. It made me uneasy to be taking up residence in a space that was not mine at all. In my experience aboard _The Surgence_ , James did indeed spend a fair amount of time in his own cabin. Whether that was for paperwork or reflection I did not know but I felt guilty in taking his privacy from him. He'd actually done a great deal for me and I had no way to repay him. Perhaps if I'd still had my necklace, I might have gifted the lump of metal to him as he was so keen on it.

I did not realise I'd started to sketch the Irish knot design of my necklace absentmindedly until a shadow loomed over my shoulder and James appeared at my side again. I glanced up to find him once more fully regaled in his uniform, with wig and hat firmly back in place. He'd even managed to pluck another coat from somewhere, almost identical to the one I still wore. The only slight difference was the decoration of the buttons. The buttons on the coat I wore were entirely plain but this new coat boasted buttons which bore a raised design of an anchor with a similar rope design that surrounded the edge. The gold trimming was also slightly different. I wondered if this new coat was more for dress occasions, my mind completely leaving behind the thoughts of what I'd just drawn.

"This you were able to draw from memory too?"

"Well I've no choice. Patrick took my necklace from me. God knows what he did with it. It's more than likely at the bottom of the sea now."

James shook his head lightly as he rounded the table and approached the door. "I know that Mr. O'Malley took it from you. That Miss O'Connell, is how I knew you'd likely befallen some ill. I found your necklace in amongst the contents of Mr. O'Malley's desk drawer. I retrieved it. If you place your hand into the left hand side pocket of that coat, you'll find it." I did as he'd instructed whilst never taking my eyes from his. Sure enough, as my hand slid into the lined interior of the pocket the tips of my fingers ghosted across cool metal. I pulled the necklace free and held the Irish knot in the palm of my hand carefully, as if afraid I might loose it again. I'd thought I'd never see the trinket again in my life and despite knowing it was worth next to nothing I found myself oddly grateful to have it returned to me. I glanced up to thank James but he had gone, closing the door firmly behind him.

I was not fool enough to ignore his advice and so I crossed the cabin to lock myself in. whilst I trusted James's words about his crew I was not so sure how Mr. Hawkins would behave if he found me alone again. It seemed to me that he had lost what little care he had for James's word. He had higher sights set in his eyes and James was just an obstacle. My mind wandered to Patrick then and I realised I had not asked James what would become of the man I had once considered family. Had Patrick done enough to warrant a death sentence? I was sure that James would see it that way, but I was not sure I did; certainly not after taking a life myself. There was too much bloodshed in the world for my liking. I knew I did not want Patrick anywhere near me after he'd disposed of me so readily but I did not think I wanted him to die for such an action. Of course, if he did live to tell his tale I could not ever be sure that he would keep a fair distance. I would always be glancing over my shoulder in expectation of seeing him. I reasoned then that glancing over my shoulder was something I already did quite a lot of. My uncle was still alive and whilst he was and I was alone, I was not safe.

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So James has another secret of Fiona's to keep, but how might that change things between them, and how will they manage their current hazardous situation? We'll find out in the next chapter!


	37. Chapter Thirty Seven - What's in Port

_**Thanks for the reviews from the guests as ever! I'm sorry for the delay with this but what with Christmas, my own pile of books that I want to try and get through reading and my general writer's block I couldn't really help it. I'm not struggling for plot as it's all planned out bit as I'm writing the scenes they aren't quite the same as what's in my head and it's throwing me off a bit. I do not like them any less once I get a chapter finished though as what I'm writing fits the characters more which is important.**_

 _ **In this chapter, Fiona's secret is finally divulged to others and she might have a realisation in-store for herself.**_

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 _ **Chapter Thirty Seven - What's in Port Royal?**_

The house on the hill was as silent as the grave. Indeed the inhabitants had not stirred for days. This was not an occurrence to be seen as anything out of the ordinary to someone who'd not been in Port Royal for long. There had been no social engagements to attend and the rainy season was well upon them. It would serve as a satisfactory explanation to any visitor that the servants had been cultivating a well endowed larder and garden to see them through the next few months without much need for replenishment. For one man though, it spoke more of people who had something to hide.

"Mercer," he greeted stoically when the man was still a few strides behind him. From his vantage point at the bottom of the hill he'd been watching the house for quite some time. "What news?"

"What news I have might amount to very little in separation Sir, but I think you shall perhaps draw connections from what others might dismiss."

"Out with it then man," Cutler Beckett ordered monotonously.

Mercer fell into line beside his master and he too turned his gaze upon the house on the hill. "I bring no news at all that relates to Governor Swann's household. There I think I will not have shocked you. There is so little movement nowadays that one might think the residents had removed themselves but for the knowledge that they have not been seen to leave."

Beckett was frowning up at the house. "Yes it is all rather strange, especially if we consider the type of woman we are dealing with. Elizabeth Turner is not someone to be cowed into silence and stagnancy. There is something else afoot. She waits for something...or someone. We must keep a closer eye upon her."

"Sir," Mercer agreed swiftly even though he saw little use in watching the woman. It was her husband they should have followed in his opinion. "There are also ships that were due to dock in Port Elizabeth some days ago that have not yet arrived. They carried troops and were commanded by an Ambrose Beauchamp. It may warrant an investigation that might bring men to the Governor's household. You will want a man present to record all that is said. If the ships are sunk..."

The other man sighed heavily. "I gave no such orders Mercer. If you have caused such a calamity then I should hope you will have successfully covered your tracks. If your name is mentioned in this, mine will be also. Surely you are aware of such consequences?"

"I have no knowledge of what befell that fleet sir. Perhaps they simply docked elsewhere for a time. The matter of importance is Beauchamp. Indeed he has familial ties to Commodore Norrington. They are cousins sir."

"Close?"

Mercer shrugged a little before he recalled that his master would not see such a gesture as his gaze remained trained on the house. "Certainly not as close as brothers, but there are connections."

"What of Norrington? His name is not one I've heard on your lips in some time. Is there news of him?" Beckett finally turned back to his man as the anticipation of hearing news of the one man who might thwart his plans set in.

"Indeed there is sir, just received. Norrington has made port twice in the last lot of weeks. Most recently he made port in at Cayenne and bought only food for the rest of his return journey of a few days to Port Royal; and whiskey."

"And the time before, Mercer?"

Mercer grinned softly. "The whiskey Sir was Irish. That in itself means nothing until you consider what I have next to say. The time before, Commodore Norrington made port at Rio de Janeiro and sources say that he was accompanied by a woman. A woman travelling aboard a navy ship sir will warrant explanation when the Commodore returns to port. It seems his officers were tight-lipped but his midshipmen not so much. The woman is Irish and was sailing with pirates. It seems Norrington made good on his promise to rid the seas of Jack Sparrow. He was captured along with his crew and was passed into the care of the authorities in Rio."

"What of this woman?"

"Irish Sir," Mercer supplied as if that should be enough of a description for any man. When Beckett made no confirmation of understanding he recalled that Beckett was not the type of man that Mercer often met with in dark and dingy pubs, who would label someone so freely and make a swift judge of them. His discussions in an inn or tavern with the local drunks were certainly simple enough but of course a man like Cutler Beckett would expect much more, for he himself was more calculating. Despite his belief that being 'Irish' was certainly a more than substantial description of the woman he'd been told of, he acquiesced to elaborate. "Red hair, smart mouth. Seems to be wrapping Norrington around her little finger. She was no longer with them when _The Surgence_ made port in Cayenne though."

"She's still alive," Beckett mused under his breath.

Mercer frowned. "You know of her sir?"

"I believe I do Mercer. That woman sailed with Captain O'Malley."

"You said you left none alive that day, Sir?"

Beckett's disdain could be seen clearly all over his face. "I left her for dead. How on earth could she have survived such a storm? Perhaps that is what as piqued the resilient Commodore's interest. No matter. If she is absent from his ship then we shall find her. I require you to seek her out Mercer. James Norrington has a predilection in regards to forthright women which may just turn out to be his downfall. That she is Irish will not have repelled him. Indeed he is too fair for such notions. Find her and bring her to me, Mercer."

"Sir you must allow for some time. As she is no longer sailing with Norrington, she could be anywhere."

Beckett grinned again. "No indeed Mercer. Norrington is close at hand. He will be welcomed back to Port Royal within days I should say. Perhaps those loose-lipped midshipmen could be enticed to provide you with more information. Once Norrington is returned he will seek to oust my control. He and Governor Swann have built up a rapport over the years. He will not wish to see his mentor of sorts miring in the mud. We must act quickly once he is returned and we will use either this Irish woman or Mrs. Turner to do so."

"What of the other matter you bade me look into sir? You must know there is still no news."

Beckett delved into his waistcoat pocket and from it he pulled a spent musket ball. Mercer could tell by the indents and scratches that it had been fired already. Beckett was rolling it between his fore-finger and thumb as he observed the dull grey lead. "Indeed Mercer I think you have also given me news on that front. That the Irish woman is alive might just be a blessing in disguise. I thought perhaps it was just her blood I would need to be successful but it appears there is much more to all of this than I first anticipated. If I want to find T _he Crown of Immortality_ then I shall have to broaden my horizons. I shall have to use the woman. It appears she may be more useful than any of us first thought. Perhaps she will lead us to it in the end. If that in itself is not enough to bring about the downfall of the revered James Norrington, then I shall pit them against one another. What of Sidney?"

"At the last count he wrote of being a few weeks away from docking in Port Elizabeth Sir. Whilst he is no friend of yours I believe he thought it wise to remain detached from whatever scheme you are conducting here. His last letter was some time ago so I should expect he will arrive in Port Elizabeth soon if he has not already. He will make camp as it were and conduct his business from there."

Beckett's eyes left the musket ball and his grin widened. "I am grateful for all of this news you bring me, Mercer. Within it all you have perhaps provided me with the information I need to bring Norrington to task. It is a shame really, to be settled on disposing such a man. He could have made a great leader if he had not grown a heart where his mind should reside. Sidney was right to commission him when he did. The loss of _The Dauntless_ affected Norrington gravely; so much so that for a time I really did believe he would become as ruthless as I. Nevertheless, he would have eventually stood in my path. His weakening has allowed us to make sense of that which might destroy him. A man with a heart is so easily torn down. This Irishwoman is the key but if all else fails we have Mrs. Turner in reserve. Find that Irishwoman Mercer. Find her and you need never worry for gold again."

I stared down at the sketch I'd made from memory as everyone began to approach the table. It felt bittersweet to know that James and I weren't the only ones in possession of such a thing. It had been James's idea to make another sketch and hand it over to Mr. Hawkins to try and placate him. I was in no position to argue. I'd spent the morning sketching the coastline for the second time and trying to work out how I might alter the sketch I was to give to Mr. Hawkins just slightly so that not even James might notice. I was not about to hand over an entirely correct sketch to a man who'd likely sell you the eyeballs out of your own head. Instead I had altered the jagged coastline in my sketch just slightly before I hid the original from view. I was right to think that James would not even notice as he returned in the early afternoon with the news that he was to hold a meeting in his cabin with Hawkins and his officers. I had thought I'd be able to slip away but he'd bade me stay.

Thus I was finally and formally introduced to the man I'd seen on board the merchant ship the day before and also the previous evening aboard _The Surgence_. With the knowledge of a simple name I understood that I was looking upon the face of the same man that James considered to have ruined his life. I mean I know that's a harsh judgement on James's part but I can understand how he felt. Of course he wanted so much to hate Will Turner for he'd married the woman that James thought he loved. He was conflicted though for he knew Elizabeth was not just content but truly happy with Will. James was coming to understand that he could never have given Elizabeth the life of adventure that she so hankered for.

My observations of Will Turner were not so much tainted by previous strife. Indeed I was looking upon him with as open a mind as I could. His dark curls were remarkably like Mick's and Patrick's and his tanned skin told of a life far from the England in which I was sure his accent had been honed. He'd traded as a blacksmith in his years in Port Royal, but I think it's safe to say he did not strike me as one. Yes, on close inspection his hands might have appeared rough but there was something in his eyes that spoke of ambition and a hunger the like of which I doubt any other blacksmith has ever felt. I could understand then what Elizabeth saw in such a man. He was handsome certainly, and that excitement I saw within him would no doubt be almost like a drug to someone who'd lived quite a sheltered life. Was that why Elizabeth had fallen so hard for the blacksmith turned pirate? I suppose we will never really know the truth of that. All I will say is I could understand the attraction. I could see why Elizabeth's head had been turned.

As someone who'd already had her fair share of adventure by that point though, I was not so attracted to Will. Elizabeth and I are very different people but I still found myself glancing to my right to where James sat. It was a thought I struggled with for a while. How had Elizabeth chosen Will over James? The way Jack Sparrow had told it, Elizabeth might be adventurous and spirited but she was still no doubt a product of her own upbringing. Her father was Governor of Port Royal. She'd led a privileged life so surely there must be things she'd always wanted from a husband. A man with an elevated position in society would be able to offer a woman like Elizabeth certain securities. There was also money. Will Turner could be as cunning and as reckless as he liked either as a blacksmith or a pirate but as his wife Elizabeth was sure to see very little money at all for the rest of her life. Neither vocation was very enterprising. It took a certain type of attitude for piracy. It's one Jack Sparrow has in spades. Wanting to be rich as a pirate will no doubt get you killed a lot quicker. No, it's more about that sense of adventure and freedom. It also takes a great love for the sea. In essence it's more about the quest itself than the potential treasure to be found at the end of it.

Just look at what I came to learn aboard _The Surgence_ with James before we found the sword. Granted, we did find the treasure in the end but it's not really the important part is it? It's just a footnote in comparison to the compromises we made and the trust we placed in one another. We'd both overcome the first pangs of grief together although we didn't quite know it at the time. I still had most of the gold in my pocket that I'd been owed by Jack Sparrow. It did not burn a hole. Indeed it was not something I gave much thought to at all. It was not important. Of course I knew I'd need it one day when I eventually parted with James and had to make my own way in the world but I was beginning to believe that even without it, I'd still get by. I had realised that I had more resourcefulness within me than I'd ever given myself credit for. James had seen all of that almost immediately. He'd seen me for what I really am. It's strange isn't it; how others can recognise the best parts of us when we are entirely oblivious to them ourselves. James believed in me, so much so that he was risking his own career, perhaps even his life in lying for me.

I realised then that Elizabeth really did love Will. Nothing from her previous way of life really mattered because she believed in him. She was so sure of him even when he was out at sea and she was back on dry land. _A notion of certainty._ I vividly remember turning my head sharply to look at James then as I recalled his earlier words to me. He'd openly admitted he was sure of me. I didn't dare to hope that what he'd said might actually mean he shared my feelings. Even if he happened to, we were so far removed from what was seen to be right for one another that we were doomed. I found myself hoping he did not care for me as I cared for him. Life would be so much easier for him if he could just walk away without a worry. I think I knew he regarded me well, so I was forcing myself to be content enough that he'd remember me fondly. I'd helped him find the sword after all which might just be the making of his career if he used it well enough. It was all I could hope for really, that we'd eventually part as friends who wished each other well.

The peace offering of my sketch seemed at first to mean nothing at all to Mr. Hawkins who still stared daggers at me across the table. It appeared he wanted much more than the potential promise of treasure of some sort. James and I had agreed that it was best if I did not speak. I'd likely have said something untoward that would have thrown our negotiations off kilter. Men like Jack Sparrow I can pander to because it's easy enough to appeal to their sense of pride and to that within them that still strives to be decent in some way. Hawkins did not have any of that. He no longer cared what people thought of him. Gold lining his pockets was all that he cared for. Someone like James is therefore more suited to such negotiations. He has things to offer a man like Hawkins.

Not that day though. The map and the promise of a decent reference were all that James would put forward. I'd expected him to try a little harder to win Hawkins round but it seemed even James had a limit. It was evident to me in those moments that he did not like Hawkins but he placed his offer in a polite and genial way that amazingly began to work. I think Hawkins knew that he could not hope to fool a man like James who had suspected him of being somewhat of a swindler from the beginning. Thus Hawkins agreed to take the reference and the sketch and be on his way once he reached Port Royal. He also consented to have the crew step down from their argument too. None of this really reassured me. The truth of the matter was that once Hawkins was no longer a member of James's crew he would be free to speak as he pleased. He could tell anyone who I really was. He could go right back to London and to my uncle to tell him the news. The same could be said of the crew once James made port on London once again. I could only hope that by then I would be in some far off place and well hidden. Those thoughts rattled around my head as the meeting bore on and eventually Mr. Hawkins and the elected crew members ambled back out onto deck.

James moved swiftly then to observe the empty corridor and then he locked the cabin door. Lieutenants Gillette and Thompson still sat at the table with me along with Will Turner. Will was the only one who did not appear entirely confused by the conversation that had just passed. Of course James's officers had maintained an entirely focused demeanour throughout discussions but as son as Mr. Hawkins had left it became apparent to me that James had failed to inform them of the secret we had both been keeping for some time.

"Forgive me sir," Gillette began, "But all this talk of secrets... Excepting that glorious sword I do not recall that we are keeping any from Mr. Hawkins."

"That is where you are wrong Gillette. Perhaps you might think that I owe you somewhat of an apology when you hear the truth. You will have to consider though that it was not my secret to tell. You will recall the miniature portrait that Mr. Hawkins so diligently carries upon his person of Sir Malcolm Sidney's niece..." James had returned to reclaim his seat a the table and he hesitated as he glanced at me. "However I do believe this is not my secret to tell. I am afraid Miss O'Connell must consent to the telling of this tale...or perhaps she should in fact tell it herself."

He turned towards me again and his stare lingered this time. He was inviting me to speak and I had little choice in the matter. I knew deep down that he was right. His officers at least deserved to know the truth after they'd stood against the rest of the crew in defence of me. More so, they'd been immeasurably kind to me during my stay aboard _The Surgence_. In the earlier days when I was still so angry and grief-stricken they had humoured my resentment of James. They had become almost friends to me, I realised swiftly. I nodded to James, happy for him to continue with my tale for I was sure he'd tell it far more succinctly than I ever could.

He reached into the pocket of the new coat he wore and I saw a glint of gold as he placed something in the middle of the table before us all. As his arm pulled away swiftly I was met with the sight of the miniature he'd spoken of just a few seconds before. I had no idea how he'd managed to somehow take it from Hawkins without his knowing. The officers and Will leaned forward in their seats to gaze at it. "With the exception of Mr. Turner here who sees this portrait for the first time, I implore you gentlemen to take a much closer look than you might have done before."

The seconds dragged by and I held my breath as I waited to see which one of them would make the connection first. James and I eventually shared an apprehensive glance when no one appeared to have realised just what was before them. I shrugged at James and then sucked in a long breath before I spoke. "I sat for that portrait before you when I was fourteen years old. I'm Sidney's niece." Of all three of them, Will Turner appeared the least surprised. I did not know at the time though that he was privy to the knowledge that I at the very least was not all I appeared to be. Gillette and Thompson however turned to stare at me as if they'd never seen me before. I might have laughed if I had not felt so apprehensive. "I've not got ten heads you know. You can pick your jaws back up off the table."

They both continued to stare. "You do not have to disclose certain details if you do not wish to," James intervened. "What you have said is more than enough." James turned to his officers again. "As we all know, Sir Sidney is quite the commanding and domineering character. Suffice it to say that Miss O'Connell here left his household under fractious circumstances and faced a great risk to her own person. After some time she found herself under the care and protection of Captain O'Malley. Her uncle would have her returned to him in London. As Miss O'Connell does not wish to return her uncle's household, I thought it only logical that I keep her identity to myself during our journey."

Gillette had picked up the miniature and was turning it around in his hand. He held it up then, aligning it with my own face across the table from him as if to compare the two. "Perhaps Sidney needs to employ a better painter of miniatures, for this looks nothing like you Miss O'Connell."

I smiled ruefully. "It does if you look closely enough. My eyes haven't changed even if the rest of me has. When I found out Hawkins was carrying that thing around with him and showing it to everyone I was worried someone might look too closely and dot the proverbial _i_. It helped of course that everyone seemed to think that Sidney had lost the perfect little lady who minded her p's and q's. That portrait could be of a little duchess with the fine dress and the delicate artwork; but it's me. I'm none of those things. Perhaps my speech or my personality doesn't quite fit with what the world thought Sidney's niece should be. My own self therefore became my saving grace. It became my disguise. It was rather easy to hide behind my own self. There was very little pretence."

"So your name is not O'Connell then?" Thompson asked hesitantly.

I wanted to laugh. After all that I'd said, his mind had snagged on the fact that I'd likely been known by a different name back in Ireland. "I was born Niamh Lefroy," I supplied thinly, "But my name is Fiona O'Connell. I've been more myself under a made up name than I ever would have been if I'd stayed in London. I have not really seen myself as Niamh for a very long time!"

James leaned forward then to take command of the conversation again. "I believe I can trust every man in this room to keep what he has just been told to himself. Miss O'Connell has no desire for anyone to find out her secrets or to return to life with her uncle in London. Therefore there is no need for discussion. As far as you are aware, she is simply the member of Captain O'Malley's crew that we met with on our voyage. Is that clear?"

When all were in agreement, James dismissed them. There was an awkward sort of silence. Neither one of us really knew what to say to one another. I was feeling rather overwhelmed by everything that had passed over the course of the last day and I was still shocked by how eager James was to help me. He's never told me what he felt in those moments but I thought I sensed some conflict there behind his eyes. There was something he wanted to say and yet he could not bring himself to. Instead he busied himself with ordering luncheon. It was not until food arrived some time later that I was reminded of how long ago it had been that I'd sat down to a meal. My stomach made no pangs of longing for the salted meats that were set down before us because I was still a bundle of nerves. In such a situation, Mick would have been almost force feeding me. There's something about food and drink for people though, isn't there? When all else fails, just eat something and have some tea. Of course in Ireland one would need to replace tea with alcohol of some form for the most part.

It had been my mother's way of resolving tension or nerves and I suppose Mick was rather like a clucking hen in that way. Granted, he was keen that I ate so that I could build up my strength. It was something I'd need to become a resilient sailor. Mick had a better understanding of what food meant though. Food was something that brought people together and gave them common ground. It settled arguments and fought off illness. It offered comfort and reassurance when needed. It created us all equal. There was nothing more collective than a group of people sitting down at one table with the same meal. It ironed out any notions of superiority very quickly. It created a family. Mick had known how to keep his crew happy and had striven to continue to do so. It had warmed my heart each time I'd shared a meal with my friends in such a way.

Things were different of course for a navy ship. There were decided distinctions between the men aboard. Of course all this would keep order for navy men were disciplined and when under a good and fair captain they might thrive on such decorum. I was glad in those moments that James was not like Mick. I could not bare the thought of food as my stomach still churned and to have someone openly criticise me for not eating would have made me feel even worse. I thought I caught the odd glance from James as I sat with him as he ate, but he said nothing at all. I think perhaps he thought I'd have snapped at him if he'd made a comment about my lack of appetite. Indeed I might have done so as to disguise my nerves.

Eventually the silence grew too much to bear. I plucked at a topic of conversation from thin air and though I already knew the answer, I asked my question. "What's in Port Royal?"

James lowered his glass and observed me over the rim of it for a second or two. I think he too heard the double meaning in such a question. He chose to answer it as I had wanted him to though. "I have a residence there. You will know by now that my title of Commodore pertains to that particular port and the land and seas surrounding it. A base on land for a time is needed I think. I would think of going nowhere else. It can provide us with the shelter to report what has happened and to deal with any repercussions. It will also afford you with a time to consider your options Miss O'Connell."

He'd brought my nerves to a crescendo. I did not even consider that I had many options available to me. I had nowhere to go and no one I held connections with. My life ahead appeared to be an empty void. My mind refused to work; caught on the realisation that I was to be entirely alone in the world once I left _The Surgence_. It was so simple a thought and yet so very painful. It was grief of a different kind and yet it affected me keenly. My chest constricted, stopping me from breathing as I normally would. It was as if a weight had pressed against my ribs to force me to panic. I clamped my jaw shut even as I felt my lips begin to tremble and I forced down the sob that climbed up my throat. I could not stop the panicked tears that escaped my eyes though. I think you'll have learnt by now that I'm not the kind to loose control in such a way. I'm prone to fits of anger if you like, and my mouth might run away with me but I don't often let others see my sadness and despair. I was trying to turn away from him even as he pulled a meticulously folded handkerchief from his pocket and reached across the table to hand it to me. It took it without thanks as I did not trust myself to speak. I dabbed at my eyes and looked anywhere but James as my cheeks heated in shame.

He had no idea what to do. He was a man of society. He was well accustomed to batting off coquettish ladies and their fans simpering in his ear and trying to win his affections. He was more than likely well accustomed to catching ladies in the throws of a fainting fit before an overly warm fire. Grief and sadness was not something that was ever spoken of or readily identified within the confines of a drawing room soiree or a card game between gentlemen, let alone a society ball. The world he'd grown up in and the London ton that he knew so well were all about celebration and frivolity. He'd never seen real despair and he was lucky for it. With both parents still alive I can readily understand that real despair is not something he had ever really faced. Yes, he'd lost the woman that he loved to another man and that was pain enough to have suffered. Loosing his crew had also been a blow. He had not lost his life though. He still had occupation and purpose. He had a title and a reputation. He says that moment was the first time he realised how truly an unsettling thought it would be to have no life. It was my despair that gave him the first inclination of how destitute I really was. Perhaps it was because he'd always seen me channel any upset I might have faced into anger or determination. I'd never simply lost control of my emotions completely before him.

I'd managed to calm myself enough after a few minutes that I finally trusted myself to speak. "Might I get some air?"

He observed me for a second or two even as I would not meet his eyes before he nodded. "I'll escort you."

The cabin and his presence were so stifling that I wanted nothing more to be free of him and to be in the open air. I followed him out onto deck and towards the bow of the ship, praying all the while that he would not see fit to remain with me. My prayers were answered in the form of Gillette and Thompson who he bade stay with me should any of the crew cause any trouble. When he finally turned his back upon me and made his way to the helm I felt like I could finally breathe again. How I ask you, was I to sit across from him and force down all of my feelings and emotions regarding my future? How was I to maintain a sense of indifference where he was concerned? I already knew how I felt about James and part of me wished I did not know my own heart. Things would have been so much easier that way. I did not know what awaited me in Port Royal and there was the smallest part of me that wished to distance myself from James. It seemed to my confused mind to be a rather raw but effective solution to my problems. To be forced to part with him would hopefully enable me to put those feelings I harboured to one side and begin to think of life without him, to think of how I might move on. I don't really know who I thought I was kidding; certainly not myself.

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 _ **In the next chapter we finally see land, and what will Fiona think when she finally meets Elizabeth?**_


	38. Chapter Thirty Eight - The House

**_Thanks to the guests for the reviews! I really quite liked writing this chapter as I love dialogue between Fiona and James. There's quite a bit of it here and we also meet Elizabeth again._**

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 _ **Chapter Thirty Eight - The House on the Hill**_

"...and sure wasn't he happy as Larry farming those pigs; even though they cost him an arm and a leg!" Gillette was smiling reservedly and I could tell by the mirth in his eyes that he wanted to laugh as freely at my tale as lieutenant Thompson did. "You'll never hear of someone away with the fairies as much as he was, I swear it!"

"And that is the ending of it all?" Thompson asked, aghast.

"Bless him, he wasn't the full shilling but I suppose it's easy to halve the potato where there's love. He did it for his mother. Yes, that's the long and short of it."

Thompson shook his head slowly as he smiled. "You really do tell the most astonishing tales Miss O'Connell!"

"No wonder my countrymen are a laughing stock when some of them make fools of themselves like that. They've a lot of heart though which is the main thing."

We fell into an easy silence as we watched the first strains of light appear on the horizon. Land had been sighted some time ago as I sat along the bow with the two officers for company. We'd sailed through the night and all day at a fair speed before spending some hours languishing in darkness as we waited for the safety of daylight. James had been adamant the evening before that he did not want to make port until the sun was firmly high in the sky. I had the sneaking suspicion that he wanted to avoid at all costs an altercation with the man who's name graced the scrap of parchment that was rolled tightly and buried in my pocket. Thus we were forced to wait.

I was not aware that James was watching me from the quarterdeck. He was both amused and perturbed by the easy going nature of the conversation he'd seen us partake in at the bow. I think he'd realised for the first time that I was not entirely comfortable around him even though I entirely trusted him, whereas I did not feel at all unnerved by his officers. He says he was pleased to see my spirit returned to me a little after the events of recent days but that he still wondered what it was that had me avoiding his gaze so much. He never for a second managed to stumble upon the truth of course. He thought of everything but the simple fact that I held him in far too high an esteem to be called reasonable or simply friendly. Indeed he himself was struggling with his own conflicting feelings. Whilst conversation between the two of us was almost always of a serious nature, he was distracted to find me so at ease with his officers. we chatted and laughed over nondescript things and the conversation remained light and innocent. James told me not long ago that he felt inadequate without knowing why. I think the truth of it was that he hankered to be a part of those silly conversations where we talked about nothing of any consequence. It was appealing to him as it never had been before. In one way Elizabeth might have fitted such a mould. From what I know of her now I can say that I don't think she is fond of small talk and neither was James. He'd likely been taught that there was little time for it upon the sea. Somehow I'd made him begin to rethink his opinion of the pastime.

It was the gentlest and briefest of touches to my shoulder that disrupted my thoughts. I'd lost track of time slightly as we walked the slightly inclined streets of Port Royal, meandering away from the port and into the more built up area of the town. I turned my head to find James watching me was we walked, a frown appearing on his face as my eyes met his.

"Perhaps I spoke out of turn earlier. I fear that my lack of consideration for your situation has upset you. That was not my intention."

I shook my head at him. "You haven't upset me Commodore. It's something I've needed to come to terms with for a while now. It should have been something I gave more thought to long before now but I did not let myself. I should have known that to bottle all of it up like that might have caused such a sense of panic when the realisation finally came. It's my own fault really. It's odd to think that I've gold in my pocket, enough to reasonably to get by on but I feel more lost now than when I had nothing to my name. It's true what they say, gold means nothing really. It can't give me back the life I had before. It's not enough to purchase myself permanent lodgings or a ship and therefore I have no way in which to gain from the use of it. It rests in my pocket like some sacred sort of talisman that I am afraid to make use of for fear that one day I might have a need of it. It's the starting point of the rest of my life, whatever that might be. I won't lie and say it's not a daunting thought because it is. I suppose I do have the option of finding passage on another ship. I'd not have to pay for passage as I could work. Perhaps you might be able to recommend a ship in port that's headed in the right direction?"

James offered a grim smile. "I do not think anyone could ever mistake you for a pirate after those words. I made you a promise that I would endeavour to ensure that you reached a final destination of your choice in safety. Indeed I believe I offered you passage to Ireland if you had want or need of it. That offer still stands. There are of course things that I must deal with here first, but once my business is concluded you need only decide upon a destination Miss O'Connell."

His generosity was not something I felt I could even attempt to understand and so I did not try to. I glanced behind me at the quiet street to give myself more time to think of a reply and found James's officers following us at a short distance. They appeared at ease and glad to be upon dry land again but I could sense that they were covertly observing the streets in anticipation of some form of confrontation. James too seemed comfortable at first glance. I could sense the tension in his shoulders though. It did make me wonder at their slow pace for a few seconds before I suddenly realised that it was likely for my own benefit. Indeed as I turned back to the street ahead of us I knew I could not manage a faster pace in fear of my knee locking.

"I can't ask you to do that," I replied softly as we turned a corner and met a steeper incline. "I appreciate your offer just as I did the last time you made it but I don't think it would be right for you to do that. People will talk. If it were some fine lady then things might be different. You'd be doing the decent thing in providing passage but when it's someone like myself it would only cause scandal. People would be saying I'd duped you or seduced you or something like that. They'd say all sorts of things. We'd only be asking for trouble."

"Perhaps I am too aware of the fickleness of the spoken word Miss O'Connell, or perhaps I pride myself too much on my naval rank and the respect if affords but I never did have much of a care for gossip when it concerns myself. If people choose to gossip about such things then they are already afforded the knowledge that you have already spent months aboard my ship unchaperoned but for a cluster of pirates. The fact that you appear unscathed and as forthright as ever will attest to the fact that nothing untoward occurred. I think perhaps the people of Port Royal will be more concerned with your friend Mr. O'Malley. You perhaps are not aware that he is a wanted man. There is a warrant for his arrest that came in from Port Maria some weeks ago. I was informed of it when we docked this morning. He will likely not be summoned there as Governor Swann and myself are present here to preside over any judicial proceedings. I thought I should inform you that there is not much hope of a reprieve for your friend. He's wanted for crimes of piracy. He'll face-"

I grimaced and interrupted him before he could divulge any more information. "Yes, I know he's a scoundrel and a pirate. I've always known. I know what fate awaits him. I haven't yet forgiven him for selling me out to Townshend but I'm not going to say he deserves to die. In fact, I'm not sure any man deserves to die unless he's taken a life himself." I recalled then the scene I'd witnessed aboard _The Grace_ , when Patrick had shot Mr. Doyle before my eyes. Perhaps I was too trusting of people even after they'd done wrong. I sighed heavily and shrugged when I felt James's eyes upon me again. "Perhaps I need to reconsider on Patrick's part. He's not who I thought he was. I need to keep telling myself that."

"I do marvel at your maintaining such an impartial view of the world after spending so long at sea. I am in no doubt that you will have seen sights that have shocked and disturbed you and still you maintain that there is good in the world. I do appreciate that you thought of Patrick O'Malley as a friend at one time. You not only grieve for the loss of his life but for the memory of his brother. I think perhaps you wish to see him in a good light because you think that your late captain would wish you to. That is a rather painful way to live, Miss O'Connell. You will not thank yourself for such thoughts in later life."

I dearly wanted to laugh then, but my knee twinged painfully and I slowed my steps imperceptibly. "Later life is not something I have a cause to think about very often. It's more about day to day for me. I don't know what will happen tomorrow, let alone in a few weeks time. I can't plan for the future, especially now. I'm not exactly spoilt for choice am I? I've nowhere to go."

"Perhaps that is not quite true." James slowed his steps even more as he turned to glance up at a building nestled behind a vast garden of wild flowers and trees. Evidently the house was empty and had been for some time, but I found something quite charming in the wildness. Of course it was not ever a house I would have hoped to see myself in one day for it was grand indeed. From what I could see through the foliage it was a four storey house, white washed and almost glistening in the sunshine. The windows were shuttered so I was not able to glimpse any of the interiors but I was sure everything was under dust sheets anyway. Despite the wildness being somewhat maintained in that the path from the gate was still accessible, it was clear that the house had not been a home for some time. James turned back to the road then, his observation of the house apparently over. When he found me still intrigued by the wild flowers intertwined with the wrought iron gates he nodded towards the house. "My residence here in Port Royal. It has not much changed from the time of my predecessor. Alas I have not had cause to stay there for above ten days since I was named commodore. There is much improvement to be made I fear, but I have not had the time to spare it a thought."

We moved beyond the house slowly and I was forced to tear my gaze away from the flowers that I found somewhat enchanting, perhaps because they seemed so at odds with the put together man who walked alongside me. "It seems too pretty a house to be so locked up," I supplied as I tried my best to remain in line with him as we walked. "And from the outside it looks well enough. I can't see that much needs improving there. I even like the flowers but then I grew up running through fields of weeds and brambles. That kind of wildness reminds me of freedom. I suppose though that you might prefer to manifest a differing perspective. Freedom does well enough for everyone but a commodore in the navy."

"Indeed I never did think you the type for such observations Miss O'Connell." James smiled at me briefly but the expression did not last. "Perhaps I am not the person to own such a home. It is a large house, built for a family. It is a foolish notion really for anyone to have considered it the home of a Commodore who will likely spend half of his year at sea. Most of my little time here will undoubtedly be spent at Fort Charles."

Somehow I doubted that. _She_ lived there in Port Royal. Of course he'd spend his hours trailing after her skirts. Even married she obviously still held some appeal. As we rounded another corner and I glimpsed a much grander house than the one before perched a the top of the hill I suddenly realised that although I had walked with James from the port, I had no idea where his intended destination was, or mine for that matter. "Commodore, might I ask where exactly it is we're walking to? Should I not be taking rooms in an inn near the port?"

James gestured then towards the house before us on the hill and I felt my that suspicions were about to be confirmed. "I considered my own home of course," James replied, "But reputations were to be considered. I did not think it wise to have you stay in my home."

"People would probably think I was a kitchen maid," I chuckled lightly. "But if you're right about people here respecting you then I should stay elsewhere. I'm not the kind of person you should welcome into your home. I consort with pirates, remember?" My attempt at humour fell upon deaf ears as James threw me a curious glance.

"I believe Miss O'Connell that it was your reputation that I was considering. You are an unmarried woman. I thought it best to house you under the care of another woman. That house is the governor's residence." I felt the nerves begin to build in my stomach. "I regularly visit governor Swann when I can as he has been a mentor of sorts to me over the years. It will afford us the chance to talk still, without causing a scandal. Whilst here in Port Royal we are in a rather precarious position. There are those here who might use such a scandal to their advantage. Mrs. Turner will be well equipped to ensure that you are comfortable and sheltered. Aside from my own residence, it is the safest building in the town. I fear that although Fort Charles is in essence under my command, we may face certain obstacles there. It is perhaps not the fortress that it was once intended to be. I think now that it has already yielded to that which might in turn tear it down brick by brick."

"Is this some sort of game?" I asked before I could stop myself. "You're taking me to the house of the woman that you're in love with? Are you mad?"

I didn't realise I had stopped walking until James stopped ahead and turned to face me. "I thought I had explained my reasoning."

"What will she think of all this though? Your Elizabeth? What will she say when she receives you in her grand drawing room and I come trailing in behind you? Have you seen the state of me? I'm a very poor offering if jealousy is the emotion you wish her to feel. Heavens, I'll be an amusement to her certainly! If that is what you were thinking, then I decline to be part of such games. The only one who would look a fool in that scenario is myself. She's much too grand to think anything of me!"

James appeared not to know what to say to my outburst and I was immediately sorry for making him feel uncomfortable. Heaven knows I knew what that felt like. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he appeared to rethink his response. Eventually he sighed and shook his head slightly. "It appears Miss O'Connell that I am not the only one who judges rashly and harshly. I believe I did tell you once before that you have quite the warped view of yourself. A woman who shrinks from praise and mirrors alike; you are rather an oddity. I've never met a woman like you. Whats more, Mrs. Turner has not so much the mind of a society lady as you might have thought. Indeed I think she would be rather fascinated by someone with as much life experience as yourself. I do not believe she has ever judged someone hastily in her life."

"Excepting you; you mean to imply?" I'd stepped forward and closed the gap between us, my eyebrows raised even as he broke eye contact and glanced up towards the house again. "God you really are still in love with her, aren't you? Even though she's more unattainable now than she ever was." James began to move again and I realised he was not going to offer up any reply, his hands clasped behind his back as he reclaimed the pace we had walked at seconds before. "I'm not meaning to cause any offence commodore..." I rushed to keep up with him, wincing as my knee locked. Thanking the lord that I didn't trip and fall I slowed down again, resolving that to have him tear on up the hill without me was preferable to falling flat on my fact in front of him in an attempt to keep up. I placed my feet carefully in the next few steps I took and hoped that he really wasn't about to rush off without me because for all of my pride I did not like the thought of making my way to that house on my own.

I hadn't realised how much I was watching my feet until a shadow crossed my path. James had fallen behind so that he walked alongside me once more. "I do not believe you ever willingly do mean to cause offence," James supplied thinly. "You have the natural propensity to be as honest and as pragmatic as it is humanly possible to be. It is not a trait that will always be admired. For the most part I am sure you will by now be aware that I am inclined to appreciate it, however. It is refreshing to meet a woman so willing to speak her mind without caution. I am accustomed to the kind of conversation that makes for a very dull evening where women are concerned. Mrs. Turner was of course always an exception to such a rule."

 _Of course she is_ , I thought blandly. I hastened to speak, lest he think I really had meant to antagonise him. "If I can explain myself; I told you once before that I thought she was a fool, and I still agree with that statement. I do however understand why she might not have been as open with you as you might have wished her to be. You were always destined to fulfil your ambitions to rise within the ranks of the navy. When you made your interests in her clear I'm sure she felt rather pressured. Despite whatever feelings she had buried within her own heart and mind she would have known how society and her family would expect her to marry well. She'd have felt confused because she knows on parchment you are just the kind of match she should be hoping to make. Add to the mixture the fact that she'll have at least have liked you well enough to consider any offer you might have made. I've already told you before that you're a decent man. If she is as good a person as you say, then she will have given much thought to the matter. It won't have been easy for her to dash your hopes. Imagine having all of that expectation on your shoulders. You'll understand that at least. You've practically been in training to join the navy since you were born after all. No matter the path that was lain for you, as a man you have some say in it.

"Women of a higher class are pushed and pulled every which way to suit the needs of those around them. They are sold off like cattle to men twice their age and are expected to conceive a child within mere weeks to secure the family line. I'm so glad I got to chose my own path in life. I cannot help but feel for women who are stuffed into stays and forced to sit in drawing rooms all the live long day with not an ounce of action at all; waiting for the first man that can impress their father with his connections and fortune. To make the choice that Mrs. Turner has made is commendable. She's a fool in the sense that she'd have been set for life if she'd married you, commodore. She'd never have wanted for anything at all and with you rising in the navy she'd have been the toast of ton. She'd have been content because how could she not be? You are not the kind of man who wishes to cause strife and grief unnecessarily. You're reasonable. You're kind and you're intelligent. I'd say that any marriage starting on those foundations is sure to succeed. The fondness would grow later. The thing is, would she have been truly happy in such a situation? Or is she happier now that she has chosen her own path and the man that she says she loves? In that respect I cannot call her a fool. Indeed you feel grief and heartbreak but can you not understand how much worse it would have felt if you had married Mrs. Turner and found her wanting? She made her choice as much for you as she did for herself. I'm not saying that she'd have let her head be turned or that she'd have have affairs or elope or anything like that but imagine being married to someone very agreeable and not being able to return their feelings no matter how much you try? I expect she'd have felt guilty and she would have grown lost, in time. You'd have felt guilty for her loosing her sense of self worth. The truth is that neither of you would have done anything wrong but you'd still be guilt ridden and angry. What kind of life is that? That's why women should be permitted to chose their own paths. Men might think that they know best in all matters but how on earth can you? We women are half the human race! That's half of the world that men have no clue about! I applaud your Mrs. Turner for stepping out of the net she was ensnared in and pushing the boundaries. Of course her life might be that much harder because of the choices that she has made, but she will be happier. She did it all for love. It's a bold choice. I hope I get the chance to make the right choices for the same reason in the future, even though I do not wish to think too far ahead or to place myself on a pedestal. I hope I have at least earned the right to such a choice as a woman."

"As I said...honest and pragmatic." James smiled softly. "Perhaps you have a missed vocation as a chaperone to wealthy young women Miss O'Connell. Of course, I cannot think their parents would appreciate such advice but the young women would certainly benefit from such sound teachings. Where choices are concerned I think it should be fitting that you make your own all through your life. You appear to have a knack for making the right ones despite your disillusioned trust of those who do not mean well."

I chuckled softly. "God I don't think anyone should take my words as gospel. Can you imagine it? I'd have the whole of London reluctant to marry!"

"Better that than silly women, those I cannot abide," James mused.

We'd reached the gates of the house. I sucked in a breath and stopped walking as I looked up at the handsome facade. I had expected to catch sight of Elizabeth draped across the balustrade of the balcony, mocking me from on high even after I had slightly come to her defence during our conversation. I'm still not quite sure where that came from truth be told. I think I liked how James saw me and I didn't want him to know that of Elizabeth I sometimes thought badly. Of course the balcony was really deserted. The shutters of the windows were open but there seemed to be no life behind them. The house did not hold as much charm as the smaller one belonging to James that sat a little way down the hill. The flowers and shrubbery were well clipped and trimmed, likely testament to the workmanship of many gardeners. The whitewashed pillars that held up that balcony above stood resolute and magnificent in the afternoon sun, making me all the more sure that this was not the place for me.

"Are you really sure about this?" I asked James, suddenly fearful as the house loomed closer. "What if they send me away again?"

"Miss O'Connell, why on earth do you think I sent Mr. Turner on ahead earlier his morning? We are expected. I would not have you housed down in the port for all the tea in china. That smart mouth of yours and Lord Beckett's trickery would cause no end to our problems. These people are my friends. They will not turn away those in need, especially not if I have vouched for you. You are as welcome here as you would have been in my own home, now come."

He left me no choice really because he gripped my elbow then and pulled me along with him towards the stone steps that led up to the house. I like to think the gesture was to aid me ascending the steps as my knee was indeed grateful for the support but I knew deep down that James thought I was likely to run away. He's told me since that he did think that. I was like a deer caught in lantern-light, startled and ashamed all at once. Of course he thought I was about to bolt. Who can blame me really? There I was, with a man I'd come to care for greatly as we approached the house of the woman he was still very much in love with. I probably looked like I'd been trailed through a hedge backwards although James denies this. He's just being kind though. I'd pulled my hair up and away from my face back in the port but I was sure I looked more pale than I normally did, more tired and more confused. The last few days had been eventful and I think it is alright that I say I was weary and in need of rest. It's not weak to admit that. At the time I think I thought it was very weak but now I see the usefulness in swallowing one's pride. What use would I have been that day if James had decided upon a wracking of the brains long into the night? I had not the willpower for such a thing at all.

I have learned that a pretence of strength is much more of a weakness than any of my fragility. It took me some time, mind. It also took a lot of James's patience, as you will come to learn later on in our story. I felt a little deflated that I was to be led into the foyer of such a home when I looked terrible even as the doors opened and James propelled me through them. The foyer was vast, greater even than my uncle's in London. The marble floor stretched from our feet to the foot of a sweeping staircase that caressed one wall. I could hear the bustle of what I assumed was the household staff and the clatter of heeled shoes on the hardwood flooring of the upper level as they drew nearer the staircase. I only realised that two footmen had opened the doors for us when they hurried to shut them behind us. I shivered despite the fact that James's coat was still in place around my shoulders. It crossed my mind then that perhaps I should remove it. What a sight I must have looked in his coat of all things! That would really make people talk. Just as I clutched the sleeve to yank it down and pull myself free, a melodic voice from above stopped me in my tracks.

"James!" We both jerked our heads upward in answer to the call, watching as a flurry of ivory chiffon descended the stairs rapidly, and it took a second or two before I was able to take my eyes from the fine dress and really look at the woman I'd heard so much about. "I thought you'd have arrived much earlier than this!"

She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Silk-like skin was pulled taught over pronounced cheekbones that tapered down from a thin nose to full red lips; lips that were pulled into a somewhat sardonic smile. Her fair hair was piled into a fontange on top of her head, artfully arranged by a maid to ensure that a bonnet would rest nicely there should the lady have a need to step out of doors. She reached out a hand to James as she approached but seemed to think better of it almost instantly and pulled it back. She clasped her hands together respectfully and peered at James as if trying to discern his deepest thoughts.

"Mr. Turner faced no opposition then upon his return?" James asked quietly and I turned to him, sure that I heard something untoward in his tone. Indeed his expression looked somewhat pained, as if even looking in Elizabeth's direction was causing his grief to reestablish itself tenfold.

"Of course not! I would have sent word if he had!" came the woman's curt reply. Her gaze slowly slid to me as if she wished to calculate me. I didn't move, sure that whatever I would say or do would prove wrong in the eyes of a creature that many deemed so perfect.

"This is Miss Fiona O'Connell. I believe Mr. Turner will have informed you that she requires a place to-"

"You should have brought her to me sooner, James!" Elizabeth smiled softly at me then before gesturing a small white hand behind her. Another woman came forward, this one clearly in the garb of a maid. "This is Mary, Miss O'Connell-"

"Fiona! It's just Fiona. There's no airs where I'm concerned." I threw her a pleading look as she continued to smile and hoped that she'd not continue to address me so formally. That was the last thing I wanted from someone well above my station.

"Very well, but you must call me Elizabeth then, as James has failed to introduce me. As I was saying, this is Mary. Accompany her upstairs if you will. She will show you to a room of your own where you may stay. You must think of yourself as entirely at home." She threw her gaze to Mary the maid then who beckoned for me to follow her. "Anything she needs or wants, Mary."

"Of course Miss." Mary's voice was so rich and full of flavour that I had no doubt she was a native to the island. Her dark skin was healthy and glowing, telling of a good and healthy life. I followed hesitantly, more conscious of my injury than I had been in months. It was one thing to think of James seeing me tripping over my own knee, but for his Mrs. Turner to see it would likely be the death of me.

"James Norrington, you are a fool! Will told me everything! You kept a young woman forcibly aboard your ship for months with no prospect of release! Just who do you think you are?"

Elizabeth's shrill tones echoed throughout the foyer as I followed in Mary's footsteps up the sweeping staircase, making me jump. She was beautiful, but I had not expected such character from one so polished and refined. I glanced back over my shoulder briefly to find her toe to toe with James, staring up into his face as if she might hope to stare him down.

"Elizabeth I-"

"I do not think I care to hear it James! As I said, Will told me everything! If what he says is true and I do not doubt it is, then what befell that poor girl within the last few days is all your fault!"

"I'm aware of that-"

"Are you really?" I had stalled then, thinking that perhaps I should come to James's defence. He glanced up as if anticipating that I might still be listening and threw me a warning glance that told me not to interfere. "James Norrington, for all of your education and schooling, I'm afraid to say you have no notion of what it is to be a woman in this world! How can you be aware? She should have been brought straight to me! Yes, I know she was consorting with pirates but you chose to pardon her. That does not mean you can keep her aboard your ship whilst you follow some wild goose chase. that is unfair!"

James sighed heavily as his eyes left mine and returned to Elizabeth's. "I deserve your ridicule Mrs. Turner. Absolutely I do. I am also grateful for your hospitality. I wonder if your father is at home?"

"Of course he is! We cannot leave for fear of being arrested! Will himself has told you how he was forced to flee." Will Turner emerged from a doorway at the side of the foyer to stand alongside Elizabeth. "Indeed I would be eager to hear your thoughts on why you have all managed to find your way here without Lord Beckett impeding you."

"Come along Miss," Mary called from the top of the staircase and I smiled gently at her to show that I had heard. I threw one glance back at James who had turned slightly towards Will. I could no longer see his expression as the height of Elizabeth's coiffure blocked it from view. I was suddenly bone tired, and the thought of a plush and warm bed was so inviting that I gave up caring about the conversation below. I was grieved to part with James though. After being reunited with him I had hardly left his side. It felt like I was been pried from him once again and I did not feel comfortable with it, for I had no assurances that I would see him again.

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona gets the chance to speak to Elizabeth alone, but what will they talk about; and how will James cope with having both women under one roof?**_


	39. Chapter Thirty Nine - Elizabeth Turner

_**I loved writing this chapter! I feel like Elizabeth and Fiona are two people who've needed to talk for a long time! I hope the conversation between them is something you all enjoy reading because I think it's just right. There's also another conversation between James and Fiona here that moves them along further in terms of growing closer even though neither of them seem to realise it!**_

 _ **Thank you so much for the reviews! To the guests, Smithy and Beeeech, there is much more to see from Elizabeth and from James and his decisions on how to handle all that's going on! I loved your comments on all of it! I hope Elizabeth seems true to character! I know the romance has been a bit slow but I think that's more true to James's character. We will get an insight into his thoughts over the course of the next few chapters that may reveal a few feelings here and there! We will have some romance soon!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Thirty Nine - Elizabeth Turner**_

I didn't like the room. Perhaps it reminded me overly so of the room I had inhabited in my uncle's home in London. Perhaps it was just too grand for the likes of me. The pale blue wallpaper was littered with pretty golden birds and tree branches in a pattern that repeated itself around the room. A large window looked out towards the sea, with the town of Port Royal nestled before it. The bed was the biggest one I'd ever seen. Not even my uncle had owned one that big. Little pieces of furniture littered the space around it, the clutter clearly the pride and joy of someone who'd had much time to spare. I knew instantly that a lot of the other rooms in the house would be much the same. _Elizabeth._ She was clearly bored and creative all at the same time.

I didn't envy her the life she led at the top of the hill, in the house that separated her from the rest of the world. No matter how pleasing on the eye she was, or how many pretty dresses she owned, she was still the governor's daughter. Any friendships she might make had the potential to be as fake as whatever it was that her maid had stuffed onto her head to ensure that her hairstyle did not deflate throughout the day. Perhaps I had more of an understanding of her from the house she lived in. Maybe that's why I didn't like the room. I didn't want to like or understand Elizabeth. I knew how much hurt and pain she had caused James when she had chosen to marry Will, but I had to appreciate that she had thought only of her own happiness. In doing so she had likely saved James from a life of torment. Married to him, Elizabeth would have been too fine to have adventures, too closed off to truly be the outspoken woman that she always had been. She'd have been caged. There was much expected of her because of her upbringing. In some ways the best thing for her to do was to marry someone beneath her. Society might shun her, but I got the impression that she'd find that rather funny. She had no care for society balls and titles any more. She had seen the world. She had seen adventure and she liked it. She was not the wife of a commodore or an admiral, not now she had seen her own heart.

I stood on the threshold of the room for quite some time. It felt as if I was somehow betraying my own beliefs in letting myself be a guest in such a house. In the end Mary had to beckon me forwards to sit precariously on the bed. It was quite high and I had to jump a little to reach it. There was something about myself that felt very unclean then. Everything in the room was perfect except me. Even Mary's own modest dress and hair cap were pristine, starched and neatly pleated with great care. I on the other hand looked like I'd not even fetch employment as a kitchen maid in such a house.

"Is there nothing a bit simpler than this?" I asked Mary, even though I knew what her answer would be. Elizabeth had chosen that room after all. Mary would not want to deviate from her mistress's instructions. "It's a very grand room for little old me."

Mary smiled warmly as if she understood my sentiment exactly. "The other rooms are all closed up Miss. This is one of the nicest rooms in the house. Why not enjoy the splendour of it all?"

"I'm not much for splendour," I replied softly. "I don't know you Mary but I dare say I had an upbringing not much different to yours. I'm a country girl. I grew up in a little village. There's no need to be calling me Miss or anything like that. Fiona will do just fine."

Mary nodded slowly. "I've lived in Port Royal all my life Miss. My mother is a seamstress and my father is a porter. He moves what needs moving for anyone who needs the help. We've had a good life here. Mistress Turner and Governor Swann are very kind. I couldn't have hoped for a better position on the island. Begging your pardon Miss, but you're a guest in this house. To me it's only right to afford you the respect you are due. You are a friend of commodore Norrington's after all. I'd not feel I was doing my job if I was addressing you so informally. I will say that I appreciate you saying so though Miss."

I nodded my understanding, feeling even more inadequate in my determination to dislike Elizabeth. Was it to be that way? Was I to come into contact with not a single person who had a bad word to say about her? She'd certainly shown herself to be a woman of her own mind with a fuse that could be easily sparked; yet everyone seemed to have nothing but praise for her. It almost made my skin crawl. I buried myself a little more in James's coat, pulling it tighter around myself as if that might make me disappear under the kind gaze of Mary. I suppose James's kindness had been more welcome to me as it had been a gradual thing. I wasn't much used to meeting new people who were unreservedly courteous instantly. Most people had hidden agendas and I'd spent the last six years growing warier of strangers. It was a lesson I suppose, that I shouldn't be judging people so readily. I perhaps trusted those I knew far too much when they did not deserve it, when in fact strangers I'd only just met had better intentions towards me.

"How about a nice bath to warm you up Miss?"

I'd not realised Mary was watching me. I let the coat fall loose again reluctantly. "I'm fine, honestly. I'm just not comfortable in a house like this. That really is too much trouble to go to for me."

"It's no trouble at all," Mary called over her shoulder as she moved to the bell pull at the side of the room and tugged on it. "Mrs Turner has a bath brought up for her each evening so it's routine. Mrs Turner can do without this evening. She'll understand. I'll have the water brought up."

Mary bustled out before I could argue her down. In truth I could not argue the fact that the thoughts of a hot bath had me flexing my bad knee in anticipation of such a treat. I'd always kept myself clean with the use of water when aboard a ship, but it had often been a hurried affair; sloshing tepid water over myself from a bowl as quickly as I could so that I could dress again. I'd not thought of freshening up as a relaxing pastime since I'd left Ireland. Back then the cast iron tub had been set before the fire in the parlour of our small house and I'd scrubbed my skin until it was pink whilst my mother untangled the knots of my wild hair. Was that something Elizabeth found comforting then? I knew that her mother was no longer alive so I did wonder then if having maids made her feel cared for as a child does by it's mother. In London when I had stayed with my uncle I think I'd have been afforded such luxuries if I'd wanted them. I'd not been foolish enough to risk a long lounge in a bath no matter how many maids I had around me for fear that my uncle would come barrelling into the room.

I heard the floorboards creaking then along the hallway and I readied myself, knowing that it was too soon for Mary to have returned. I sat up straighter but kept my hands at my side. I knew there was not enough time in the world to fix the mess that was my hair before sure enough, Elizabeth gently pushed the door open and glided into the room. Her serene expression was at odds with what I was sure was a war of confusion going on within her mind. She likely did not know how to take me at all, or how to talk to me.

"Mary says she has gone to fetch water so that you might have a bath," she simpered as she closed the door. When she turned back to the room I noticed the bundle in her arms. She moved closer, setting them on the bed beside me. "I know you will likely prefer your own clothing but I thought I would gather some things together for you to make use of should you have need of them. I would recommend the dress if you wish to roam the house. You are of course free to do so, but in case of unwanted visitors I think it only right that you are dressed accordingly. My father will also appreciate it. Whilst I am not adverse to peculiar styles of clothing, he is still rather reluctant to accept more informal wear. I have been at sea with pirates though, so one tends to care less about such things. Not that there is anything outwardly wrong with what you wear at present, it's just that your ankles are visible Fiona. That will scandalise an old purist like my father." She chuckled lightly then as she reached forward on impulse it seemed and gently twirled a lock of my hair around one of her fingers before the curl sprang free again. I was still marvelling over that and the fact that she'd called me by my first name after only one prompt to do so when she spoke again. "What a wondrous colour your hair is. You are strong then, for I expect you've had many a price offered to you for your curls. From what I am told, it is rather difficult to shake those kind of charlatans off."

"The trick is not to let them get too close, and then you don't have to," I attempted at humour.

Elizabeth appeared to rethink her close proximity to me and moved back towards the doorway. "It is a wonder that you appear to have befriended James. I mean no offence by that statement of course, Fiona. It is just that you are rather headstrong. I cannot imagine he will have been much amused by that. He does like everything just so. I imagine you cannot have had a pleasurable stay aboard his ship. He rules it with an iron fist."

"There were a few teething problems in the beginning," I countered. "On the whole though I think we came to understand each other well."

"It should not have been allowed to happen of course. James should have brought you here to us. He did not treat you fairly at all. By that I mean to say that Will has told me everything. You were sailing aboard a merchant ship before your friends perished. You were a free being. James should not have backed you into a corner like that."

I was shaking my head. "I was sailing with pirates when he found me. I had a choice and I chose Jack Sparrow. Actually I think the commodore was kind in his decision not to lock me in the brig with Sparrow and his crew. I think when all is considered he did the right thing."

It was Elizabeth's turn to shake her head. "You're agreeing with him for the sake of it. I can see in your eyes that you aren't quite the push over that James might be used to." Her continued use of his christian name in some sort of hint at over-familiarity was starting to rankle me. Whether she intended its use as some form of territorial indication or not, I'm not sure. I'm now inclined to think she did not know at all that she was bothering me; at least not in the way that I thought. Perhaps she had grown wise to the longing looks he threw her way every time he was in her presence. Had she been able to tell that I thought a great deal of him? Had she seen in me the same longing that he held? I sometimes think that was why she was so keen to talk about him, to make me squirm or to make me reveal my feelings. "Please do not tell me that when he offered you his terms that you were in agreement. There's more to you than that, I think. The grief you still harbour so long after the deaths of your friends is more than enough to keep you fighting."

As if her over-use of James's christian name wasn't enough, she was also assuming that she knew me. What she said was right of course but I wasn't about to let her believe that. She had no right really to attempt to delve into my thoughts. They were my own to mire in. I decided to turn the tables. "We came to an arrangement of sorts. As I said, we came to understand one another. I am not the only one with a heart in the throws of grief. The commodore too has had much to contend with. It was one of the first things I came to really know about him, that he had such a sadness about him and he had no way to harness it. It's curious really, that he is so hell bent on ridding the seas of pirates when he too maintains this strange sort of resilience, determination and drive to seek out that which does not even exist. For someone so against pirates, he has quite the appetite for treasure."

Elizabeth smiled then softly. "Yes, I think you've got the measure of him quite well. At any rate he appears to have much respect for you. He's asked that you be permitted to stay with myself and my father and you must stay for as long as you wish." I was very aware that Elizabeth was sure to avoid mentioning my carefully placed words about James's grief. Surely she had to know how much pain she had caused the man. I was sure that she knew, and that was when I realised she was hurting too. She had not meant to draw him in. She had not encouraged his feelings. She had liked him well enough as he was a decent man, but not enough to think of him as more than an acquaintance. She'd likely regretted having to break his heart. It seemed all that I had forced myself to think of her had been right, then. There was goodness within her despite it all. I didn't want to like her or think fondly of her, but I was beginning to see that was because of my feelings for James. If I had not thought of him in the way that I did; if I had not esteemed him so much then I might have been predisposed to like her, to make more of an effort to befriend her.

"I'll stay as long as it takes to find a ship that's sailing in the direction of home if that's alright. I'm sure it'll only be a few days at most. This is a British port after all so I'm sure I could snag passage on a ship bound for England within a day or two. I could make my own way home to Ireland from there. I'm grateful for your kind offer but I don't want to impose. I'm still not sure why the commodore even brought me here. I'm not exactly the kind of house guest you're used to."

"When I said that Will told me everything, I meant it. I know what happened aboard _The King's Inquisitor_ and I also know who you are. I know about your uncle. I understand why you might feel uncomfortable in a home like this. You have been through a terrible ordeal and although I think that some comfort and rest might be good for you, ultimately I understand that we are strangers to one another. Staying somewhere not dissimilar to the home your uncle has in London may not be comfortable at all to you. Whatever you might have a need of, you must inform myself or Mary. We will endeavour to aid you in any way we can. James was right to bring you here. If you do not already know, then I must tell you that I have been under house arrest these many months. It has been stifling but the one mitigating factor is that I have not come into contact again with Lord Cutler Beckett who is attempting to usurp the navy's control of the whole island. Now that James is returned things may improve, but he will have a fight on his hands. It would not have been safe to house you elsewhere. This way, James may visit this house as he often does when he is ashore and speak with you without raising any suspicion. I appreciate that you wish to return home Fiona. If I were in your shoes I think I might feel the same way. Allow James to aid you in that respect once things here have been resolved. I believe he feels responsible for you in a way. He will view you now as he does a member of his crew and please do not misinterpret that. You've sailed with him for so long that he will think of you as one of his own. James cares greatly for his crew. After that hurricane I think he has become cautious that he does not risk the lives of those who serve him. He will want to ensure that you return home safely. You should let him, if you care as much for his principles as he does. He likes to see things through, does James. To not be able to do so would likely make him feel inadequate and slighted. Like all well bred men, he is proud. He sees you as his charge."

"I'm not meaning to cause him offence but I'm my own charge. I can look after myself Mrs. Turner. I don't mean him any disrespect. I like him very much and respect his thought process and his morals and all that, but I like being in control of my life and I don't like being in anyone's way. He's an ambitious man. Helping me should be on the very bottom of his list of priorities. Helping me is just trouble for someone like him. Surely you can understand all of that, as someone who has been brought up a certain way. You were wrong about one thing though, it's not just well bred men who have pride. Poor folk are proud too, perhaps even more so despite the fact that they have less to loose."

Elizabeth moved forwards then and sat alongside me on the bed. Her shoulders slumped slightly and I was intrigued by the movement because with such a tight corset and small waist I did not think she'd have been capable of it. "I understand what you say Fiona, really I do. In another world I would have been married to a man like James and I would have been happy with such a lot, having never considered that another life might be for me. We do not know how our lives may be changed with just one meeting. I was bred to marry well and produce children. My father loves me very much and he would never force me to marry someone who I despised. James is a good man, and that is why my father was keen for us to marry. It was a good match on paper and I dare say James would make quite the husband. I may have come to love him as a close friend over the years of a marriage. Fate is a curious thing. I did not have a bleak future ahead of me and yet it showed me something that gave me hope for more promise in my life. I think you and I share the same desire for adventure. I saw all of my prayers strangely answered in Will who I came to love very quickly. Sometimes things like that happen in such a flash, and sometimes they are more gradual. However long they take, they are not something that can be planned for or avoided. I am not advising you to just lay out your feelings for all to see, Fiona. Heavens no, I think James might be a bit overwhelmed by that. Whatever there might be between you both even if it is just friendship, it seems to be something that is taking it's time in making itself known. Let it. Do not be afraid of it. Do not be afraid to tell James that you appreciate his friendship if nothing more. I sense in you a desire to return home but above all else I think you fear to be parted from James now. If for nothing else than the fact that you trust him and feel safe with him, that is instinctual. It is something that cannot be ignored. James is a proud man, we are both right about that of course, but he is also kind and truthful. He will not wish to cause you undue pain. If you do one day tell him the truth and he does not share your feelings, he will be honest with you in a way as to spare you harm as little as possible. I do not think that shall be the case though. I think I sense between you both that understanding you spoke of. He will do right by you. He is honourable."

I shook my head again. "Respectfully Mrs, Turner-"

"Elizabeth, you must call me Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth," I began again. "I'm not sure I know what it is you're talking about. Whatever you think there is between myself and James, it's nothing. I trust him, and I suppose he's saved my life enough times now that I cannot call him anything other than a friend but I'm sure he'd die of shame if he heard this conversation or if you ever spoke of any of this to him. Please don't do that. I'll go back to Ireland, where I belong and he'll be free of all the trouble I've caused him. That's how things should be. That's what's right."

Perhaps I spoke with a note of finality for Elizabeth seemed for the time being to accept my answer. She nodded her agreement and got up from the bed. She wandered towards the door again and only turned to glance back at me when she was stood in the doorway. "We shall talk again once you are better rested Fiona. I am sure your mind is rather devastated right now. You need some time to regroup your thoughts and to rest your tired bones. Mary shall be up with the bath water soon. Then you must sleep."

With that she was gone and it strikes me now that I might not have thanked her as well as I could have done. I was not being rude though or dodging such tidings as a result of my forced dislike of her. She was right in that my mind was in turmoil. I no more thought to thank her than I understood what on earth was going on, or what was to become of me next. There was more noise from outside, footsteps strolling along the wooden floor but I knew that it was not Mary the housemaid. No, these footsteps were determined and sure. Elizabeth had left the door open so I was able to glimpse the flash of blue as his coat whispered by the door.

"She's very beautiful; your Mrs. Turner!"

I smiled a little to myself as I watched him turn on his heel, the tails of his coat lifting slightly with the movement as he placed his feet carefully just beyond the boundary of the doorway. He believed he should be invited in to such a room before he entered it. I decided I would not do so to see if I could entice him to move closer anyway.

He was scowling as he very often was when I finally turned my gaze towards his. "As we have clarified, Elizabeth is not my Mrs. Turner. Far from it. We are here in the home she shares with her father and her husband. I would have thought that..."

He'd been about to admonish me for having a lack of respect but he trailed off as I grinned at him. He shook his head slightly and I think he did so because he was trying not to match my smile with one of his own. "When are you going to realise I never mean anything that I say?" I asked jovially. "To be sure, I think I must have told you to take anything I say with a pinch of salt. We like a tale, us Irish."

"On the Contrary Miss O'Connell, I think it is rather the opposite. I think you almost always only ever say exactly and entirely what you mean. I believe I have told you before that I find it quite refreshing and an admirable trait. It is something you should endeavour to preserve but you should also have a care with it. There are those who will not welcome it as I do."

For a second or two I did not know how to reply but at length I turned the conversation back to my starting point. "She is beautiful though. That I meant. Just for a second I thought I understood your love for her, but then she opened her mouth and spoke. In essence she is everything that I did not expect. She has a sharp tongue and she knows her own mind. I had not thought that a woman like that might have appealed to a man like you, commodore."

"A man like me?" he questioned even as he turned and glanced up the hallway. It irritated me that I could not see what he was looking at, but I could fairly guess. It was likely the tail end of Elizabeth's skirts whispering around a corner at the end of the hallway. He turned back slowly but I could tell his concentration was held elsewhere. "Miss O'Connell, I do believe you have the pleasure of confusing me yet again, for although you spoke succinctly and with ready words, I have not a notion of what you might mean."

I laughed and said nothing else, expecting him to smile politely and leave, but he finally placed a foot inside the room. He stopped just inside the doorway and took in the decor for a second or two before he finally met my eyes again. I knew he was going to wait for however long it took because he wanted to hear me say something. Whether he wanted to really hear some explanation or he just wanted to laugh at me, I wasn't sure. I decided I preferred the latter because my energy was depleting. I didn't have the gumption to really give him the explanation he deserved.

"Dress a goat in silk and he still remains a goat." I knew I'd stumped him. I laughed lightly at the old saying I'd heard many an Irish housewife mutter in my childhood. My own mother had said the very thing when my father had stood up for one of our neighbours who'd been thrown out of our village for his cheating and trickery. His wife had been fool enough to take him back into her home for a time, but my mother knew that for all of his new airs and graces and promises of being a new man, he'd be back to his old ways soon enough. No time spent abroad or new clothes could take away his mischievous mind. He certainly hadn't fooled her. I had thought James might get it after a moment or two, but when his perplexed expression held I sighed heavily. "All I mean is that Mrs. Turner might look every inch the lady she was brought up to be but she's always going to have that sharp mind and tongue. No one's going to go changing it by putting some silk dress around her. Think on that. She would not have done well as your wife. You need someone with her determination surely but someone who knows when to remain quiet. I think I can presume to say I understand that Mrs. Turner would find that excessively hard to do because I would also. I am not one to curb my mouth for anyone. I daresay neither is she. I don't know if that will help you come to terms with all that has passed, but you should think on it, commodore. If you do make admiral you will need to set your sights higher. You can't have a wife who interrupts you every five minutes to add her penny's worth to the conversation."

His eyes changed then and I can't describe how except to say that somehow they grew darker in hue. I was transfixed by the change. It was almost like watching the sun go down behind a hill in Ireland and the shadows enveloping the luscious green fields as night set in. "It might be a well established assumption that a well bred and meek woman is what I need Miss O'Connell, but no one ever considers what _I_ might _want_ in a wife. The world is so keen to tell me of both, and no one ever considers that I might indeed want differently than I need. Alas it is my station that affords me such a juxtaposition. Were it not for my naval commission my wants and needs would perhaps be the self same thing, and do you know; they would not matter at all to anyone. How I envy you that way of life Miss O'Connell, and feel glad for you at the same time. You will never face such scrutiny, have your hopes and desires mocked and ridiculed, have your passions torn from you because they are simply unsuitable. I think perhaps you are the most free person I've ever met in all my life. You do and say as you please whilst still maintaining a level of respect and decorum. You are quite the salve to many wounds I should think. Do you never wonder what you might have become if you had stayed in Ireland? I see you in my minds eye outside a pretty cottage with a burly husband to laugh at all of your confounding phrases and to comment on the remarkable colour of your hair. I see children, so many of them and all with your colouring. They are scampering over the fields and in and out of trees with reckless abandon as you do aboard a ship. You are happy and content, without a worry. I fear that men like myself and your uncle have stripped those dreams from you entirely."

It was my turn to be entirely confused. "Now Commodore it is I who doesn't understand you; apart from to say that you automatically assume I should want that country life, but I never once intimated that I wanted anything of the sort. I am not the only one who judges. We all do. You cannot blame others for wishing you well and divining a prosperous path for you in their heads. It seems you hold a lot of respect here in Port Royal. The people want you to do well, to marry well because they believe you deserve happiness. Your men do and so do I. It is only you that believes it to be a falsehood. You can forgive yourself for what happened whenever you like, or never if it pleases you to think all those men at the bottom of the sea want you to be miserable for the rest of your life. They were your men, and you chose them because they were good sailors, good men. I don't think they would harbour such hate even in death. It is you who holds the hate and not as you might think. You want the world to know you hate pirates, want to see the death of them but don't you hate yourself all the more than you do Jack Sparrow? If you did not hate yourself you would have given in and let yourself have the happiness you deserve. Then perhaps you would have an understanding of why pirates exist. The world cannot force the poor to starve in slavery and taxation and then take offence when they steal to feed their children. People are left on the streets without education to better themselves or manners to get by on. They are taught to steal from infancy to get by because there is no other choice for their parents or guardians. The world makes thieves and then punishes them. People can either choose to die on the streets or turn to crime. It's a difficult choice indeed."

Maiming or murdering though," James replied softly as if he could sense my anger. "Is that necessary? You yourself have told me Miss O'Connell that you have been in dire situations yourself, but you would not have harmed anyone without good cause. I am sure of it. When your uncle and Townshend attacked you, you acted in self defence. You did your uncle little harm as I can attest to his full health myself. I think you do not give your class enough credit."

"Or maybe you just don't know me well enough Commodore. Perhaps I'm not what you think."

I don't think either of us knew in that moment what had come over me. I was bone weary and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to fall back into the soft mattress and sleep for eternity. We were saved from any further discussion by the definitive sound of a bath tub being dragged along outside the room. James retreated to the door again and nodded at me once. "I shall return upon the morrow Miss O'Connell and I expect to see you well rested."

With that he was gone, likely I thought to trial Elizabeth's skirt tails.

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter we will meet governor Swann as James tries to figure out what to do next!**_


	40. Chapter Forty - An ultimatum

_**Finally another chapter! Sorry for the delay with this one. When life hands you lemons apparently you have to devote all your time to juggling them and thinks like writing get pushed to the side a little. Hopefully updates will be a bit more regular in future though.**_

 _ **I really like this Fiona free chapter! I loved writing this dialogue and there may be a few hints as to where things are going in this one. We are finally beginning to see what's going on in James's mind!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Forty - An Ultimatum**_

Enveloped in what should have been the most comfortable room in the house for a gentleman, James still could not control the nervous energy that he had struggled to contain since he had made port earlier that day. He and governor Swann had spent long moments in silence as they both drank deeply from glasses of brandy, staring around at the small library as if the very books on the shelves might take flight into the room and offer them up the answers they so desperately sought. Despite knowing that there was much still to do and much still to say, James could not help that his gaze fell to the window every few seconds, and to the view of the sea beyond the island that he'd seen many times before. The sun was just beginning to set but to James I think it felt like the dawn of a new day. Once he told governor Swann everything, there would be no going back. Whilst he trusted the judgement of his old mentor, he was fully aware that the man might not like what James had to say. I think there was a part of him that wanted to believe he still had a choice, but he'd brought me to that home and Elizabeth already knew all, so he had a duty to inform her father too.

"I fear that what you have to say is grave, commodore. Yet I am already aware that you have returned to port with a ship and a crew, so a loss of either cannot be your grievance. I would have you impart to me whatever it is that burdens you. I do not believe I have ever seen you so preoccupied."

James turned away from the window and governor Swann gestured to the armchair that sat before his desk. James shook his head even as he realised that it might seem improper for him to refuse such a gesture when the governor himself was already seated. "Forgive me sir if I am not myself. I have much to concern me at present. I would tell you it all in time, but I must omit a detail or two here and there as befits the wishes of the young woman I brought to your home this afternoon. I respect those wishes. I hope you will have an understanding of my decision sir, having a daughter of your own. Indeed those details are not detrimental to the overall tale I wish to tell you, and have no bearing on the outcome of my dilemma at present. In time perhaps that might change, but for now I must ask you to take my word alone on such matters."

Governor Swann leaned back in his chair as he observed James, wondering what it was that had shaken the sometimes indifferent young man that he had come to respect for his resilience; a resilience that appeared to still be in place in those moments, albeit in a different form. "Perhaps my friend it is time you told your tale. Cast off this fretfulness and tell it to me so that I might better understand your nerves. I cannot help you and this young woman until I hear you out."

James nodded his understanding. "Governor Swann, please do not think I wish to diminish or demean your rank in society when I say that I am not sure what help you can provide us with. I appreciate your offer of help more than you can know but I fear that even to be present in your company might blacken your good name. Once you know all, you will understand..."

James was true to his word in that he told Governor Swann all that he could whilst omitting from his tale the secrets that I had imparted to him in confidence. Of course he was forced to disclose the information regarding my uncle, for that issue in itself might be one to rear it's ugly head sooner rather than later. James was sorrily glad that governor Swann remained silent as James told him all and did not try to interject. James says that once he started talking he could not bear to stop and start. Facing interjections and questions about each occurrence would only have frustrated him beyond belief. Finally, when he explained how I had come to be aboard _The Surgence_ once more after Townshend's death, James lost the tension in his shoulders and slumped into the armchair before him.

He chanced a look at the governor to find him flabbergasted. "Well...It seems you've had quite the summer my friend." Governor Swann poured them both another brandy and seemed to be mulling over all of the new information that he had been presented with. James had almost finished his second glass of brandy when the governor finally spoke again. "Evidently the most concerning matter at present is Lord Beckett. You are already aware that myself and Elizabeth are under house arrest. You commodore have poked the proverbial bear in bringing Mr. Turner back to Port Royal. I do not resent his return in that it brings my daughter comfort to have her husband at home but Lord Beckett has issued a warrant for his arrest."

"I will not let such a warrant stand," James replied swiftly. "It pains me to say it but Mr. Turner was of aid to myself and my crew. I believe I am inclined to respect him even if I cannot admit to liking him."

"Lord Beckett outranks you my friend. Heavens, I outrank you!"

James was shaking his head. "Sir, you are governor of Port Royal. You are the appointed king's representative in this town. Cutler Beckett is a company man and whilst he has the king's good graces, he cannot hope to oust your authority here. I've already sent word to England of his intentions. I have ensured that those of highest rank within the navy are aware that Cutler Beckett is not to be trusted. He is not gracing us with his presence to ensure that the law is upheld to the king's standard. You and I sir were already upholding the law."

"We failed, commodore. Mr. Turner himself was fraternising with pirates, as was my daughter. We are both weak men in that we had too much of a care for her to really ever envision that we might cause her any hurt or harm. We both know men who have killed their own sons and daughters in their quests to remain in favour. We are no longer a product of the world we were brought up in. We are altered and changed. We have thought of our own selves before our king. We have let love rule us!"

James's eyes flashed then as my own words flew back to him from weeks ago. " _...If you're ready and willing to let your friends die when you might have spared them, you aren't a good man. When all is said and done Jack, people wont judge you for your exploits as a pirate, but on your reputation as a man."_

"Sir I think we can no longer look upon favour in the same light. To do the unspeakable, to give up what we truly believe in and love for king and country is not who we are. I believe it has never been who you are sir, and I might have undergone such a great change in the last lot of months that it is no longer myself either. you are indeed right, we are altered. I am not sorry for it. I do not wish to be known as the kind of man who throws his friends to the wolves. I wish to uphold the law and ensure that all pirates meet a sorry end but I can no longer overlook the struggle of the lesser man. Perhaps I have come to a better understanding of the world we inhabit. I now see the true meaning of justice. I also believe that I have no care to be remembered in years to come as the scourge of the Caribbean. I have no desire to be remembered at all. Indeed if I am I have only the desire to be known as a good and decent man. I will not allow Cutler Beckett to usurp your power and to harm your family. That is in itself a miscarriage of justice and treason. I will not stand for it. I have informed those within the navy who are trustworthy and who will act accordingly in London to ensure the king is abreast of Beckett's methods. Indeed I ensured that letters were sent to England months ago, not long after I returned here to find Elizabeth in such a state over Mr Turner's flight to escape arrest."

James did not like the way his old friend was watching him. It was almost as if governor Swann was meeting him again for the first time. "Well commodore, you give such a decided opinion indeed. You always have done, but it seems your thinking is somewhat reversed. I must admit it is taking me some time to come around to this new persona you present to me now. I hope that you do not do so in the hopes that my daughter may begin to admire you at last. I was not agreeable to her marriage to Mr. Turner as you well know, but my daughter is happy and I cannot bring myself to regret letting her do as she wished. I also appreciate how much scandal she has weathered and will not force her to endure more. I must ask you that if you have more intentions towards my daughter, that you desist. She is a married woman now. I will not have her name besmirched further. Elizabeth is headstrong, she will not change her mind so flippantly. She has chosen her match."

I think that was the turning point for James in regards to knowing his own mind and heart in terms of his feelings. He was presented with an ultimatum, but he very quickly realised that it was easy for him to agree with it. Although to him Elizabeth was still that which was unattainable, he no longer saw himself as her match. He had finally come to terms with the fact that she had never been who he thought she was. For a time he had blamed her, had blamed Jack Sparrow and Will Turner for influencing her and blamed himself for letting such a change occur within a young woman of his admiration. He was forced to admit that he had simply been wrong about her. It did not make her any less than she ever was. Indeed he admired her in a different manner now. She had always been true to herself and her own beliefs. He could only respect that and wish her well. No, even if he were faced with the opportunity of marriage to Elizabeth now, he would not take it. He understood his own mind more clearly, knew that unrequited love would not bring him happiness. He had never been able to give Elizabeth what she wanted or needed, and she would have resented him for the life of obedience that she would have to endure. In short, he had come to believe everything that I had ever told him. He finally saw the truth in it all. It did not mean that his love for Elizabeth just disappeared. It simply meant that he understood his own mind, understood who they both were as people and that they wanted different things and were not a match for one another. He was released from his old way of thinking. It would finally enable him to move on and he knew it.

"I am in agreement with you," James finally announced. He did not flinch as governor Swann fixed him with a shrewd stare. "I am not the man who could have made your daughter happy. I am now also convinced that without causing any offence I may say that Elizabeth would not have made me happy either. I was in love with an ideal. It was the dream of the life I had set for myself in my mind as a young man rising rapidly in rank. My mother and father have a strong marriage and I wished for that myself. I did not take into account that life is full of change. Enough of these matters though, we have little time in which to plan our next move, sir. Cutler Beckett will come to this house once he is aware of Mr. Turner's presence."

"You want that though commodore, do you not? After all, you did leave Mr. Turner to walk through Port Royal freely. Someone will have seen him."

James nodded. "Of course I wanted him to be seen. If what Miss O'Connell says is correct, Beckett will also wish to scrutinise her. I believe that Beckett will forget all about his grievances with you and your family sir once he knows that Miss O'Connell is present on this island. She poses a risk to him. If she were listened to; which is unlikely, she could reveal that the company man so readily trusted by everyone is indeed a murderer at the very least. If we could find a way to have her word taken as gospel, I would have her statement printed and posted in every doorway from here to Inverness. I will not however ask Miss O'Connell to reveal that which would erase all doubt of her tale, that she did indeed take a musket ball to her shoulder. That would be inappropriate and disrespectful in every way."

Governor Swann frowned. "James I appreciate and trust your word on this young woman, but even you must surely be aware that her word will mean nothing against that of Lord Beckett. To publicly accuse him would only result in her own demise. You would put her at grave risk if you asked her to stand against him."

"I will not ask her to do so," James replied swiftly. "I believe she is so steadfast that she might offer such a thing without any encouragement. She has quite the notion of what is right and wrong. She is a believer in justice even if she has a far fairer view of it than I do. The grief she feels at the loss of her friends has sparked a fire within her that I fear may one day overtake her entirely if something is not done to bring Beckett to justice. Miss O'Connell is the most rational person I think I have ever met but I believe her temper sometimes overwhelms her. I am not inclined to like the stereotypes placed upon a group of people who all hail from one place but in Miss O'Connell's case I am inclined to admit that she does indeed have the aforementioned temper of an Irishwoman. In essence though I agree with you sir. No, I must simply wait for Beckett to show his hand. My officers are watching this house at present and will continue to do so until I can fetch some of the redcoats from Fort Charles that are still trustworthy to take their places. Beckett will trip himself up in his eagerness to ensure that Miss O'Connell does not speak of what she knows. He will show his hand and I intend to catch him in the act. Then we shall be free of him. What concerns me most is the underhand tactics he may deploy. What I told you of Miss O'Connell's true identity is more than likely something that Beckett will use against her. I believe he will drag Sidney into this before long and then we will face issues of our own. If her uncle becomes involved I fear that Miss O'Connell may bolt. For all of her tenacity and resilience, she is terrified of her uncle. That is plain to see, though she tries so hard to hide it. We must entertain the belief that Sidney may become aware that I have been hiding his niece from him for months. I accepted a commission from him and although that was before I knew who Miss O'Connell really was, he will no doubt try to imply that I hoodwinked him from the beginning."

"Then we deny who she really is. The world knows her as Fiona O'Connell. If what you say is true and that she has no desire to return to her previous life then we continue to hide her identity. Sidney has no proof that she is indeed his niece. I cannot imagine that the fellow would seriously consider travelling all this way in the event that someone has found a young woman who looks a little like his niece. His ill treatment makes me even more sure he will not make an appearance. Of course, the most prudent way to ensure your friend's safety to would be to find her a suitable marriage in case such a thing did happen. Once married she would be the property of her husband."

James winced. "Sir I must ask you not to speak of such things before Miss O'Connell. She has as much willpower and strength of mind as your own daughter. To have herself declared as the property of some one man or another would only infuriate her beyond belief. I do not think she has any desire to marry at all. She is a free spirited sort. I respect her too much to present such an option to her, although it certainly would be an effective way of placing her out of the firing line. No, that will not be a feasible option. We must think of something else."

"I am inclined to think that Elizabeth was right in what she said," the governor sighed heavily. "Your actions in keeping Miss O'Connell at sea were rather foolish James. She should have been brought here instead. I believe however I have no need to further admonish you," the governor sighed again as he leaned forward in his chair to fix James with a rather poignant stare. "My daughter's ire will have been enough of an upbraiding for you certainly for the foreseeable future I am sure. I will not add to it. Indeed commodore you have quite the predicament on your hands. You wish to protect this woman and even though I do believe there is much more that you've not imparted to me, I can understand why. Therefore I do think that your intention to keep your explanation of events brief and to the point when you give your statement a rather acceptable course of action. If as you say, there is no proof to be found that could indicate a cause of death where Viscount Townshend is concerned, I think there is no way that what you choose to say can be disputed. You are respected and trusted. Lord Beckett can have no reason to doubt your word."

"I only hope that what you say is true," James replied swiftly. "Townshend's fleet is sunk to the sea bed. There is no possible way for anyone to discover what really happened that night. Even if they were to, there is no conceivable evidence that places either Miss O'Connell or myself and any of my officers in that cabin. For all that the world knows, he may have been killed by one of his own men. Cutler Beckett is thorough. He will entertain any possibility in the absence of any real proof. You must understand sir why I am required to investigate the man myself, to tear him down before he can do the same to us. The situation is indeed dire. Indeed I have only the word of one young woman who was herself gravely injured at the time to attest to the fact that Cutler Beckett did shoot dead an innocent man and his crew. Nevertheless it is an account I believe wholeheartedly. He will have covered all of his tracks. He will certainly attempt to investigate Townshend's death even though he will surely know there is nothing of consequence to be found."

"I am curious commodore, as to why you're so determined to keep this young woman so close at hand, all things considered. I will not question your reasoning for wishing to aid her, but to house her in Port Royal, so close to the man that is a danger to her? You could have spirited her back to England or perhaps she would be far better hidden in the wilds of Ireland where she hails from. Perhaps that is something to think on, is it not?"

James reached forward and poured another brandy for himself, damning the impropriety of such an action in his head. He sipped the liquid slowly this time, mulling over the answer he wanted to give, and the different answer that suddenly crawled into his mind unbidden. He did not know why he was so intent on keeping me close at hand and that was what confused him. Governor Swann was entirely right. Port Royal was the worst place for me, all things considered. James knew that too, but still there was something jarring his mind, stopping him from really considering letting me go. I guess I'll never really know what went through James's mind in those moments. I only have his account but there may very well be thoughts he has not disclosed to me. He's a man so lets face it, he probably does have thoughts that have remained secret.

"I admire the spirit that Miss O'Connell has," James began softly. "She has shown herself to be quite capable these last lot of months; and trustworthy. All things considered, I do not think it presumptive of me to say that we might call each other friends, after a fashion. I believe it only right that I repay her friendship by ensuring her safety personally."

"You could do so by sending her home, James," Governor Swann added mildly. "But you will not think of doing so, because you have a care for the girl. It is not something that you should shy away from admitting. Indeed it is admirable that you did not dismiss her capability and that you accepted her help. I am glad to hear that she has proven herself trustworthy. A friendship based on trust is a well-founded one. Now you must consider how deeply that friendship runs within the next lot of days. Both of your futures will depend upon such consideration. If you are lucky enough to be able to explain away Townshend's death and the investigation is closed, then you will still have a lot to consider."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, sir." James stood again and turned away to stare out at the sun that was sinking below the horizon beyond the window. Perhaps it was the first time someone had forced him to really think in depth about the connection that he and I had developed. I think he'd been denying it all along if I'm honest. Even in those moments I don't think he was sure of what it was, but he knew it was something more than friendship. If he didn't know that it was more then I think he would have said so.

"Oh my friend I think you understand more than you give yourself credit for." The governor poured himself a brandy. "Rest assured, this is the last I'll make mention of it unless you bring the conversation up yourself but I am sure you will be aware that my daughter will not be one to let things lie. She will poke and prod until she drives you and your little Irish friend insane. You had best have an answer ready for her otherwise she may ruffle feathers that should be left untouched. In regards to yourself I do not think there is much more she can do to cause upset but those secrets that your new friend undoubtedly has about her past will intrigue Elizabeth. She may cause upset without intending to. You should both be on your guard."

James said nothing more as he swilled the remainder of his drink around in the glass, not willing to turn to face the room lest his expression give him away.

The atmosphere in the room was more charged some moments later with Elizabeth and Will present. James says it only made him more nervous. He'd taken governor Swann's words to heart and could readily believe that Elizabeth would be forcing questions down his throat as soon as she got him alone. The issue was that he didn't even know the answers to those questions let alone whether he wanted to hide them or not. He tried to shake off those thoughts as he explained to the room at large how he planned to investigate Beckett's involvement in Mick's death and the problems that they might all face in the coming days. I think we all knew that Beckett wasn't going anywhere and that he would have to be ousted from the island by force. James alone would have the authority to do so once he received word from London, and only if he could present the right evidence. I was already considering that my evidence might not be enough to help.

"In regards to Townshend," James continued speaking from his position at the window, "I am inclined to think that whatever version of events I present, it will face investigation. I can only hope that my good name and the respect it carries within the navy will put an end to such an investigation before it delves too deeply. I intend to completely omit Miss O'Connell from my version of events, as I'm sure you will expect. I only ask that you Mr, Turner do the same."

Will was already nodding. "Of course, but eventually they will come to the house. You know they will commodore."

James nodded. "Yes this business with Townshend rather does play well into Beckett's hands. He now has valid reason to come sniffing around and I do not doubt that he will. He will attempt to speak to Miss O'Connell, which I shall try to prevent at all costs."

"I am inclined to think that Miss O'Connell might be safer elsewhere," Elizabeth said. "This is a large house James that will be hard to secure. We employ staff who come and go at all hours of the day. Lord Beckett may call here unannounced at any time he pleases without arousing much suspicion with them. Your own residence in Port Royal is more secluded and much more secure. I understand that it may not be quite as comfortable having been empty for so long but would Miss O'Connell not be safer under your own care?"

"I do realise I am asking much of you all in housing Miss O'Connell here in your home," James replied thinly. "Beckett's eye will have turned towards Miss O'Connell but you are all under one roof and therefore at risk. Your household staff must be prepared for any eventuality. I do not take that lightly. I can only apologise for the situation that I've put you all in-"

"James that is not what I mean," Elizabeth snapped. "Miss O'Connell is your friend and so she is ours too. We are all glad to be of aid to her but I do think that perhaps she is very uncomfortable here in such a house. She has been aboard your ship for months now and perhaps all of this is a little overwhelming for her. She is not the social butterfly that I am, I think. Moreover, her safety is paramount if you think that Beckett does mean her harm. Is it not better that she's closer to you, so that you might offer protection. I know you care for propriety but is it really of importance in a situation like this?"

"I would not put Miss O'Connell in such a position. It would not be appropriate. For the same reason I will not take up your offer of residing here for the foreseeable future. I do not wish to crowd Miss O'Connell, and I do think she would be offended if I did not mention the fact that I think she is perfectly capable of protecting herself should the need arise for it. I think perhaps we are forgetting the ordeal she has faced. Although she is strong she still needs time to recuperate. She will be far more comfortable here than she would be in my own home. I believe that there is very little furniture there, and nothing befitting what would be acceptable when hosting guests. Regardless of all of that it would not be appropriate. Miss O'Connell is an intelligent and astute young woman. I would not do her reputation the disservice."

"Oh to hell with propriety James!" Elizabeth cried. Her father winced a little, as if his daughter's outburst was unwanted but not entirely unexpected. "She's been aboard your ship for months James! As far as anyone will be concerned, you are both practically married to one another already! I think she might feel safer with you close by."

"I am afraid Mrs. Turner, this is not an argument you shall win. I am decided upon the matter. I shall take the short walk up the hill each day to speak with you all, and will return to my own home in the evenings. I assure you that this house will be well guarded. You need not have a care towards such thoughts. I shall arrange for a contingent of trusted men to be deployed from Fort Charles as soon as I leave here this evening, so that my own officers might rest a while. I am sorry that I cannot give to you a reasonable time frame for all of this. It remains to be seen whether Beckett will act as we expect him to or not."

"There is still a way around all of this, James," governor Swann reasoned. "I think perhaps I am overstepping the mark but so be it. I promised to always be honest with you my friend and it is plain for me to see that you highly esteem Miss O'Connell. You could act upon this and marry the girl. That would put an end to any danger she faces."

Elizabeth leapt to her feet, an indignant expression upon her face. "Father I do not think we can readily presume to back Miss O'Connell into a corner like that! She must make her own choices about all of this! Quite frankly I do not think we should be having this discussion without her! We should reconvene tomorrow when she has had a chance to rest!" I think James must have breathed a sigh of relief when Elizabeth intervened. Although the idea of a marriage to me was not so repulsive to him, I think he was more concerned with the fact that he thought I'd find the idea crazy.

"I agree," Will supplied quickly and I imagine James must have shot him a rather irritated look. Of course Will was going to agree with whatever Elizabeth said because he was in too deep. James believed that Will should have been more ready to speak his own mind but I see it differently. I think perhaps Elizabeth and Will had agreed that no matter the predicament they would make compromises. They would agree to disagree and appear to be a united front. They had to come together on most things because they knew that they would face more than enough opposition. They knew that the last thing they needed was to be in contest with one another. I must confess though that I readily see why James was irritated at Will's apparent lack of courage. Elizabeth is certainly a force to be reckoned with that it's hard to imagine her compromising anything to aid Will. That's a man's view of things though. I can see things more clearly. Elizabeth gave up quite a lot to marry a blacksmith who moonlighted as a pirate. That is a compromise and a half! Men don't ever think of such things where women are concerned. Women are not thought of as readily having ambition or a life outside of their marriage. It makes me angry. There's another reason I struggle to hate Elizabeth, no matter how much I want to. She really had sacrificed a lot in marrying Will, but she did not see things that way. She had married the man she loved. She was as happy as she ever could be. In her eyes she had won the world.

"At any rate I must leave now for Fort Charles before the light completely goes," he countered as he took slow and careful steps towards the doorway. "I must round up some trusted men to take the place of my officers for the evening. I think Miss O'Connell is not the only one in need of rest. I shall return tomorrow as time permits. I think I should ask that there is no more talk of marriage until I myself have spoken with Miss O'Connell again. As you rightly said Mrs. Turner, Miss O'Connell is indeed entirely in control of her own life. The last time I spoke with her of such matters she wished to return home to Ireland. If that is still her wish then I shall escort her there myself. I ask that all discussion upon these matters be withheld. It would be disrespectful to do otherwise."

He nodded once to governor Swann who returned the gesture. He offered the same to Will and Elizabeth, but he thought he saw something in Elizabeth's eyes that resembled a keen curiosity. That curiosity had him retreating into the hallway before she could bombard him with any more questions but I think he had known all along that she would follow him.

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter we've got one or two nice moments coming up that we've all been waiting for! ;)**_


	41. Chapter Forty One - A Changing of the

_**This chapter finally brings some long awaited news about Jack and his pirate friends, Hawkins is offered a proposal and some strings pull Fiona and James that little b bit closer.**_

* * *

 ** _Chapter Forty One - A Changing of the Mind_**

To book passage on another ship leaving port that very same day had been easy, especially with a naval officer at his side to vouch for him, but it was not so easy to loose said officer amongst the throng of people spilling out into the market surrounding the port itself. Mr. Hawkins must have really had his wits about him in those moments to be able to slip away from Ambrose Beauchamp. I think the lieutenant was too preoccupied with what might be happening up at the house on the hill and hoping that his cousin had arrived there safely and without altercation. That was how he found himself without his charge. Ambrose had no reason to think that Mr. Hawkins would venture anywhere else but to the deck of the very ship that he was to sail aboard. To all of us, it seemed that he would wish to return to London as quickly as he could so that he could meet with his employer to inform him that he had managed to uncover the greatest treasure of them all; me.

Lieutenant Beauchamp hurried to inform lieutenant Holmes of his loss of charge, but both men considered it to be a trivial matter that would make no grand change in the scheme of things. It turned out that they were very wrong indeed. Mr. Hawkins had no notion of boarding that ship at all. He was in fact more calculating than any of us ever expected him to be. He managed to very swiftly avoid Fort Charles whilst making his way to the other side of the town where Lord Beckett had leased a house.

"I trust that I will not be bombarded with naval officers who wish to affirm your whereabouts Mr. Hawkins? I think perhaps my man Mercer would be only too pleased to dispatch them but it would be rather a shame. I have become quite fond of the furnishings in this house. It would be a shame to spoil them and have to change them. It would also be a shame to waste such youth and skill. No matter your view of myself Mr. Hawkins, I do not take satisfaction in the killing of any man of naval rank. They have sworn an oath to our king and are only following the orders given to them by their superiors. It would be a shame to waste such manpower. I would certainly take more pleasure in your own death." I imagine Hawkins was holding his breath as he hoped for the reprieve that did eventually come. "Alas your employer has vouched for you. He believes rather foolishly that you may be of further assistance to us. I am yet to be convinced. So, Mr. Hawkins, perhaps you should enlighten me as to why I should spare you?"

"Commodore Norrington has been sailing with a woman," Hawkins replied, not aware that Beckett already knew all about me by this point. "She's not what she first appears to be, sir. She was sailing with a merchant ship under the name of Fiona O'Connell. Her captain was a privateer who sailed for the crown. Perhaps that is how he managed to pull the wool over people's eyes where the woman is concerned. She is in fact Niamh Lefroy, Sir Sidney's lost niece. I do not know if you know the tale sir, but she assaulted Sidney and left his London house in rather a violent manner some years ago. Sidney was only trying to help his family. His brother passed on and he wanted his niece to have the best prospects. He was going to introduce her to London society and ensure she found a favourable marriage."

Beckett chuckled lightly. "Mr. Hawkins, I can assure you that there is no need whatsoever for you to defend Sidney's good name. Indeed I am aware of the story, but I know that even you cannot possibly believe that version of events. The truth is Sidney wanted his niece for himself. All of that makes no matter to me, however. Sidney will be welcome to the woman once I have extracted from her that which I need."

"Need, sir? I thought you might be persuaded to send her back to Sidney right away, now that she is traceable."

Beckett stood from his chair and rounded his desk to approach Hawkins, stopping just short of him. He smiled knowingly. "You came to me Mr. Hawkins because you expected a small fee for your part in all of this. Whatever it is that Sidney has promised you, rest assured I will double it. However, you will follow my instructions and mine alone. I will decide what to do in regard of Sidney. For now, there is a connection that must be broken beyond repair. That is why I have a need of you. You sailed with James Norrington and this woman, so you will have a better understanding of the ties that bind them together. You will inform me of how to break those ties."

Hawkins was flabbergasted for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing as he wondered just what it was that Beckett really did want. The only information he had to impart was that which he'd seen for himself aboard _The Surgence_ , but he did not consider that what he saw could be of any importance.

"What I saw sir," Hawkins began, "Was a young woman exerting the whiles that they so often possess. She lured commodore Norrington to her in such a way as I've never seen before. She did not seduce him as a common whore would. It was all forlorn looks and tales of strife hidden behind an apparent show of strength and capability; how better to tug on the heartstrings of a man who thinks himself a gentleman. Indeed I did once observe them together and if I had not intervened they might have shared an embrace. She appeared to help the commodore in his pursuit of _The Crown of Immortality_ , but I could see that she did it to better her own position. The Commodore saved her from the punishment befitting a common pirate and I think she sensed within him a man who could be manipulated.

"I think she did not account for her own feelings though. Certainly I saw in her a kind of longing. I think she grew to admire him in the end, but I did not ever envision him coming to be as fond of her as she is of him. How could a man of his standing fall prey to a woman like her? Was a great marriage not said to be an immediate prospect for him once he makes admiral? Why would he throw that away for a wretch like her? It makes no sense at all, and yet it is what I saw. The commodore is a gentleman after all who wants to think himself a decent man. Perhaps that is what he sees in her, a chance to redeem himself after the loss of _The Dauntless_. He did the right thing by her in order to win her aid. In my opinion he is not so great a commander. His showing of mercy towards her was a weakness, as is his growing fondness of her. He should have remained firm but somehow she managed to seep through the chinks in his armour. He is corrupted now. To prise them apart would be a challenge indeed. They begin to loose sight of all else. I think sir that the woman is the lynch pin of it all. Before they met, commodore Norrington was as cold and determined as ever but he has lost sight of what is truly important, as has she. She even let the pirates who she was previously sailing with believe she would help them, but she did nothing of the sort. She gave them up and instead she offered her aid to Norrington. The pirates were handed over to the authorities in Rio and were marked for execution-"

"There I must interrupt you Mr. Hawkins." Beckett moved back towards his desk and from the surface he lifted a folded piece of parchment which he then presented to Hawkins. "Read."

There was still silence for a few seconds as Mr. Hawkins eyed Beckett with a little suspicion for a second or two before he let his shaking fingers unfold the parchment in his hand. When his eyes fell to it, a few words immediately jumped out a t him. "Escaped; all of them?" he cried. "Sparrow is sailing the seas once more?"

"Our little Irish friend did not desert those pirates, it seems. Somehow, I believe she aided them in their escape. That is why we must act quickly. We must convince Miss O'Connell to leave the care of commodore Norrington before her pirate friends seek her out. Sparrow for all of his nuances and tricks is not as foolish as he appears to be. Behind the fog of rum is a skilful mind. I have no doubt that he knows exactly who the Irish woman is and of how she connects to James Norrington. I'm quite surprised that he has not acted already. It shall not be a difficult task to part them I think."

"F...forgive me sir, but how are the two connected? I did not believe I saw anything between the two of them that was anything more than the natural attraction that a man at sea might feel for a devious woman. Indeed when the commodore found that sword I thought-"

Beckett's eyes flashed such a stark warning that Hawkins was brought up short. "What sword?" Hawkins was shaking his head, taking hurried steps backwards towards the wall behind him even before Beckett produced his musket and pointed it at Hawkins's head. "Prove your usefulness to me boy and tell me everything you know about this sword you speak of!"

Hawkins held his hands up in surrender, stumbling over his words as he tried to string them together to form a coherent sentence. There was something new and menacing in the room, something that he knew was more dangerous than anything he had come across before. Perhaps he even regretted going to Beckett with what he knew for a few seconds. If only he'd been honest with myself and James and told us the truth. If only he'd just got on that ship in the port that was bound for England.

"I was...w...t...they must have found the sword...in those...ca...caves that Sparrow called _The Tid...Tidless Haven_. They must have hidden it, for no one else was aware of the sw..sword until Miss O'Connell was attacked by a creature on deck one morning. The commodore banished the creature with the sword. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Golden and broad, it's got some strange shape protruding from one side of the blade as well. It's not like any other sword I've ever seen. I only saw it for a few seconds on deck that day. The commodore whisked it and Miss O'Connell back below decks straight away. They had their heads together those clever three that night; him, her and his officer. I had this feeling that they thought they knew what the sword was, not that they ever spoke of it to anyone else."

Beckett's eyes flashed again and Hawkins finally came up against the wall. With the bricks and mortar at his back and nowhere else to go, he was forced to bear witness to the wave of emotions that washed over Beckett's face. "So they are further ahead than I thought!" he finally spat. "The sword is not the treasure that your employer sought Mr. Hawkins but I dare say it shall satisfy him, will it not?"

"Yes...yes sir I should think so!"

"He shall have a choice in the matter. I know he is close by. You shall set up a correspondence between Sir Sidney and myself. He must choose between the sword or his niece; either way the woman must die. She cannot be allowed to survive. She poses a threat to me and to my plans. James Norrington may yet be useful to us. I believe I have the measure of the man enough to know he is too closed off to believe the truth, to see the sword for what it really is. I may yet make use of him but I cannot allow both him and Miss O'Connell to survive. It appears that the musket ball that pierced her shoulder was not enough to cast her into the depths. More of her blood shall have to be spilt. In the case that she does hold the key to _The Crown of Immortality_ , I believe her blood is required to unlock the mystery. Neither she nor commodore Norrington can be allowed to find out the truth of that matter. I have already had word that they made the walk up the hill earlier today to the governor's residence. It shall not be too tasking to find a moment or two alone with the woman. The softly softly approach will have her running from commodore Norrington as if she hated the very sight of him. He is so keen to progress and she will know that by now. All it will take is a well placed threat here or there. If what you say is true with regards to her feelings at least, she will come willingly to us. To go in heavy handed gives Norrington the ammunition with which he may destroy me and such a method would show my hand far too quickly. No, I must tread carefully. He must believe she has chosen to leave him. That is the only way to tarnish their connection beyond repair. You, Mr. Hawkins shall await my instruction. In time you shall present Sidney with his prize and he shall do as he pleases with it, though if he marries her now then he is indeed a great fool. Then I shall have Norrington in the palm of my hands. The man wants to be raised to admiral so badly that he shall do whatever I bid, broken heart and all. Then Mr. Hawkins, you shall have your reward."

The steam rising up from the copper bath tub was charming me in a way that I cannot really put into words even now. I was tired cold and entirely worn out. What I was feeling probably closely resembles the last dregs of shock, but of course I was not to know that back then. I was not aware that I did really appear to be so out of sorts, but that bath tub before me full of warm water resembled something to me then that was probably as close to a home comfort as I could get. Mary added some form of floral scented oil to the water as I watched and I suddenly realised that all of it belonged to Elizabeth. That felt strange. If I'd had such thoughts sooner I'd have asked her not to add the oil. I didn't particularly want to smell remotely like the woman who had stolen James's heart and stamped upon it. I waved off Mary's offer of help in undressing and took my own clothes off. I knew she was only doing as was expected of a maid in a house such as the one we were in and that she meant only to aid me but I still had to hide the tension growing within my chest at the thought of someone else undressing me.

James's coat I handed to Mary carefully and I was grateful that she seemed to sense the importance of such a gesture. She folded the coat neatly and placed it on a nearby chair for me as I watched. I showed little care for my own clothes and the skirt I wore made a resounding thud as it hit the varnished wooden flooring. I'd forgotten just how much I carried with me in my pockets at all times; remnants of both my old life in Ireland and my new one upon the sea. It might have been heavy enough whilst in my pockets, but it was all that I had to my name. I felt a shift in my emotions, as if they were pushing themselves to the forefront and I knew I'd not be able to keep a handle on them for much longer.

I tried to busy myself in picking my clothing up off the floor but Mary held out her hands. "Leave those to me Miss Fiona. I'll leave all your belongings on the beside table for you whilst your things are laundered. I'll find you a trinket box to keep them all together in."

She waved at me then, gesturing for me to remove the shirt that was the only piece of clothing I still wore. I sucked in a nervous breath as I gripped the hem of the shirt and dragged it up and over my head. I dropped it alongside the skirt and immediately threw my arms around my body to try and cover myself. Mary probably dearly wanted to laugh at my foolishness because she helped Elizabeth bathe and dress every day, and likely any other female guests that had ever stayed at the house. She'd seen it all before and was indeed a woman herself. She said nothing though. She simply smiled softly and jerked her head towards the bath. "In."

It was only when I began to swiftly move across the room towards the tub that I think Mary noticed my mangled knee. I heard the softest intake of breath from her but when I stole a glance at her from the corner of my eye I saw nothing that might tell me what she was thinking. Her noticing my knee gave me cause to remember it. I sighed as I reached the bath tub and readied myself to climb in. Whatever leg I lifted first, my bad knee would still be forced to hold all of my weight for a second or two and I was sure that I wasn't able for it. Mary had sensed my hesitation. At once she was there, holding out her hands which I gladly took and she held my wrists firmly as I guided my ankle one after the other into the almost blistering hot water. Maybe the water was a little too hot but in that moment it was what I needed. I hissed involuntarily as I slid my legs further into the water so slowly, my back eventually coming to rest against the end of the tub. The water surrounding my bad knee was absolute bliss even though I I was almost choking on the steam rising from it but I realised then that I had been ignoring the fact that I was all aches and pains. I suppose it comes with living aboard a cramped ship for the six years previous. I could count all of the nights I'd stayed in a real bed on dry land since I'd met Mick on my two hands. Baths had been even rarer.

My mind jumped to how wonderful it must be to have a bath almost every day as Mary gently pushed my shoulders and I followed her soundless instruction in dunking my head beneath the water to wet my hair for a few seconds before rising again. I let my head fall back against the rim of the tub as Mary began to fiddle with my mass of hair and I let my eyes fall closed. Elizabeth lived like this. No matter what time she had spent at sea, this was what was normal to her. I might have had baths before the fire as a child at home in Ireland, but the water had never been scented and my mother had certainly never rubbed expensive oils into my wet hair as Mary was doing. Yet again I was being barraged by the characteristics that set James and I apart. I knew that wealthy men liked baths just as much as wealthy women, and I'd been bathing with just a bowl of tepid water for years. I felt rather unclean then, as if I was not meeting the standards set by women like Elizabeth. There were no copper bath tubs aboard merchant ships though. I wondered vaguely if James had ever owned one aboard any of his ships. Somehow in my mind I considered that he must have, for to me he had always seemed a man to be quite scrupulous in terms of presentation and appearance. Of course I knew that was massively down to the fact that he was setting an example to his men every single day and he wore his uniform with pride. There was another part of me that thought that maybe it was a way for James to remain in control. When all else was lost, he was at least in control of how others perceived him. It seemed to be me to be a coping mechanism, so that he might hide all sorts behind the put together facade. I can understand why he would cling to such a notion. I myself had wandered the lonely land of grief in search of something to grip a hold of. Perhaps it was all that kept him sane in rather a strange world.

I was almost drifting off to sleep by the time that Mary shook me gently out of my stupor. She was squeezing the water out of my hair and I stood as she threw a thick towel around me. Within just a few minutes she was throwing a nightgown over my head and wrapping me in a robe. I could barely keep my chin up at that point and was desperate to just crawl into bed but Mary ushered me into a chair before the newly lit fire. She began to untangle my hair with a strong brush as the bath was drained by another maid and dragged out of the room. I'd thought of telling Mary that I'd gone to bed with sopping wet hair quite often in my life and didn't care to sit and wait on it drying that night, but once she began gently brushing my hair, I found myself relaxing so much that I was soon incapable of even speaking. I must have drifted off at some point, my head falling to the side as my hair dried rather quickly by the heat of the fire.

I never did recall waking again or of someone helping me to stand so that I might crawl into bed finally. I had always assumed that I'd managed to find my way there myself until James told me different. I can't imagine why James would have considered himself free of further harassment that night. Elizabeth was practically clutching at his coat tails as he left Governor Swann's study and retraced his steps along the hallway. He wanted to at least reach the lower floor and be free of any ears that happened to be listening in before he had the inevitable conversation with Elizabeth, but he found himself distracted when he came upon the open door to the room I'd been given for the night. Just visible through the gap in the doorway was me flaked out in the chair, dead to the world. Mary was tidying up quietly around me whilst she probably mulled over how on earth to move me into bed.

"Well she cannot sleep there," Elizabeth sighed softly as she pushed the door open softly.

"I was just going to fetch someone to help me Miss Elizabeth," Mary whispered.

"No." The word was out of James's mouth before he'd even realised it himself. "Allow me."

Even as he moved into the room, Elizabeth followed close behind. "There's you going on about propriety James, how is this proper?"

He says he threw Elizabeth a glare that told her in no uncertain terms not to argue with him. Indeed James says the reason he stepped forward had everything to do with propriety. His first thought had been for me and for how I'd have reacted if I'd woken to find someone that I did not know manhandling me. He thought it might have been distressing for me after all that had happened and I suppose I am in agreement with him. "She trusts me." James reached down and touched my arm gently, but I didn't wake. "Better me than someone she does not know."

His intentions until that point were wholly good, but I think something changed rather when he lifted me into his arms. He was coy about that part of it when he later told me that it had been him who had put me to bed, skimming over those few seconds as if they meant nothing at all. Something changed within his eyes though when he was speaking that left me in no doubt that it was one of the defining moments in the changing of his mind and of his heart. I think before he had always seen me as resolute and defiant, but asleep and clearly exhausted I think he realised for the first time that I could be wholly fragile too. I think that was when he realised that I really did need someone at my side even if I would never have admitted it myself, for who was to protect me when I was asleep? Awake I'd shown my skill with a blade in my hand and I'd cut him down a fair few times with my sharp tongue but asleep I was just a young woman who was very lost in the world. I think that was what swayed the balance. It's ironic really that despite all the talking we'd done, it was in the moment when I was at my quietest that James realised just how deep a connection we really did have. Perhaps my bravado and my unwillingness to let anyone help me had made him think I too was a little aloof or cut off from the world. Perhaps he also still thought I was a bit in love with Mick. That vanished in the space of a split second.

Elizabeth saw all of this play out in his facial expressions of course. If I'm honest I'd rather that she hadn't seen. I still do think of my relationship with James as something wholly private and I've always struggled with the thoughts that Elizabeth was there at the very beginning when it first began to bloom. I should perhaps be thanking her for being the tool that pulled myself and James together eventually, but I just don't have it in me. I suppose I am angry on behalf of James's broken heart.

I was lowered into the soft cavernous bed and the counterpane was pulled over me. Then all three of them retreated into the hallway again and the door was softly closed on my sleeping form, with James watching me until the gap in the door was no more. Mary scuttled off to put away her things and to take my clothing to be laundered as James and Elizabeth slowly meandered in silence down the hallway until they emerged on the landing above the atrium of the house. I know now why Elizabeth stopped there because it was the only place in the house really where they would not be overheard. There were still footmen by the door in the atrium and the household staff would be bustling about in the drawing and sitting rooms as they carried out their duties.

Elizabeth leaned against the iron balustrade and stared down at the marble flooring that gleamed in the candlelight. "She's not what I expected James, if I am entirely honest. When Will returned to the house earlier today and told me of your new friend I believe I drew up rather an unkind image of her in my mind. I am sorry for it, but perhaps I could not help it. I have seen real pirates for myself after all. I did not consider that she might be pretty. She is quite pretty at that. That hair and those eyes, no wonder you were determined to save her."

James probably wanted to make some sort of outburst but as always he remembered who he was. Instead he schooled his anger into a gentlemanly reply. "I do wonder at your consideration that I saved Miss O'Connell from the hangman's noose simply because of her appearance. I thought Elizabeth that you of all people knew me better than that! Indeed I am not proud that I spared Miss O'Connell the fate of a pirate's death partly because I thought she had knowledge of a treasure I was searching for. It also pains me that the only valid reason I had for doing so was because her late captain saved myself and my officers from that blasted hurricane. I did not consider Miss O'Connell on her own merit. She is as astute as you or I and just as capable aboard a ship. She's been of great aid to myself and my crew and for being an honest country girl is one of the singularly most accomplished women I've had the fortune to meet."

"Accomplished?" Elizabeth probed with a small smile and James caught her meaning.

"Yes, accomplished." James replied somewhat haughtily as he too leaned against the iron balustrade in a very rare display of ease. "That word might mean different things when applied to those who have walked a different path of life to us, Elizabeth. I will not disclose the secrets that Miss O'Connell has told me in confidence but perhaps in time she might come to trust you well enough to speak candidly with you. I believe that is why I brought her here, to you. I think what she might need is the company of another woman, one who is not a pirate. In short I brought her here to you in the hopes that you might aid me in a situation within which I am entirely out of my depth."

"How so James? I thought you said she trusted you."

James nodded slowly as he straightened to his full height again and turned to face Elizabeth. "We trust one another, that is true. Miss O'Connell is proud. That is not a failing. She told me of the events that occurred whilst she was aboard _The King's Inquisitor_ but unfortunately I cannot be sure if she disclosed everything. As I said, she is proud. I asked her if anything untoward had happened...If anything inappropriate had taken place and she replied in the negative. Perhaps she did not feel she could confide in me. I wonder if you might speak with her, assure her that she will have anything she requires, that she might speak the truth and not feel ashamed. I always find that these things are best left in the more capable hands of women. After a few days respite here she might feel relieved enough to speak with you and tell you the truth, but I do not wish for her to be pressured. I had thought that I would always be able to tell if she were speaking the truth or not for indeed she has been candid with me in the past and she is rather unable to control her emotions in that she fuels them into anger and determination. I was worried for the first day or two after she returned to _The Surgence_ that something might have happened but her spirit seems somewhat returned to her today. I do not want to think the worst did happen, but we should endeavour to be sure so that she has all she might need."

Elizabeth was silent for a few moments as she contemplated his words. Eventually she turned her head slightly to look up at him. "No one could ever think you anything other than a gentleman, James. Of course I shall take the best care of your friend. She shall want for nothing."

James sighed. "That might make her feel uncomfortable though..."

"Because she is proud," Elizabeth finished for him. "I understand James. I'll tread carefully. I'll speak openly to her and gauge what she wants and needs during the next few days. I'll do my best to talk to her, but if she would not tell you then I think it a little unlikely that she will tell a stranger. When I spoke with her I certainly got the impression that she felt uncomfortable here. It may take some time to build up trust."

"For now, we have as much time as we need," he replied. "I do not know how long this inquiry into viscount Townshend's death will take but I shall endeavour to push it to a close. Once it is completed then the real confusion shall begin, for I have no notion of what is right in such a predicament..."

Elizabeth placed her hand upon his arm then and squeezed lightly. "Go home James. Go home and sleep. You will call tomorrow and we shall begin to plan. There is nothing to be done now when those concerned are asleep. You said Miss O'Connell should be availed of all our discussions, so allow her that. You both need to rest and things may seem different tomorrow."

She turned away from him then and James observed the woman he had once loved. She was still leaning on the balustrade and with her head tilted to one side the soft skin of her pale neck was bare before him. A single lone curl trailed down to her collarbone. Her thin corseted waist tapered down from breasts that swelled above the bodice of her dress with each breath she took and her dainty hands hung gently in the air, her arms resting on the iron balustrade. For the first time in many years, James was not bewitched. His mind flew to my own pale hands and of how they compared to hers; how my red hair was such a contrast to my pale Irish skin; how I wandered around with a blade causally tucked into the belt at my waist; how I spoke without pretence and said things so carelessly that still sounded pleasing in my accent. Then he realised what he had done. He had compared us both. Confronted with a rather intimate moment alone with Elizabeth, he had thought of me. Was that what dispelled his desire for her altogether? I'm not sure. He's never really confirmed or denied it. He knew he still cared for Elizabeth. They had been friends for a long time and she was indeed everything that his parents would expect him to choose in a wife. She was someone he could trust, but perhaps just as he realised that she was indeed a force to be reckoned with and a formidable woman with the gall and bravado of a man who knew his own mind entirely, he found that he did not love her as he had done once before. She would always be someone he thought fondly of, but she was no longer at the forefront of his mind. They were never going to be anything more than close friends. It was easy for him he says, so relatively easy then to kiss her cheek softly with a whispered word of thanks and turn and walk away from her. He left the house on the hill without regret, knowing that I was in the care of one of his dearest friends and that it was entirely the right place for me to be. He returned down the hill a little to the house he had never considered a home to contemplate all that he had come to learn and feel within the last few days.

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 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona learns more of Andromeda's fate and she has another run in with Elizabeth.**_


	42. Chapter Forty Two - Crimson Roses

_**To the guest: Thanks for your review! I think you're right in terms of who's more of a risk between Beckett and Sidney, that risk is only a few chapters away! Although Norrington has opened his eyes a little, it's always going to be a gradual thing between him and Fiona but I think those gradual dialogue moments are the sweetest to write in my opinion! Love hearing what you are thinking of the story so far, keep the feedback coming!**_

 _ **In this chapter, Fiona and Andromeda are woven a little closer. This chapter is mostly a pinnacle scene in Andromeda's own life (or at least the version I have imagined for her. It plays into the choices that will be made in the next few chapters so I feel it's justified)! Just in case anyone's seeing any irregularities within the scenes, I felt as they are myth that I could weave their story my own way a little. I feel like I want to create little air bubbles between the words of the original story and present certain scenes in a new/refined way. Although I've researched the myths a lot I wanted them to have more depth and humanity and to also have real connections to Fiona's own story. Hopefully that comes across well!**_

* * *

 ** _Chapter Forty Two - Crimson_** ** _Roses_**

 _I didn't know my surroundings, but the woman did. As she felt the cold marble pressing against the side of her face she knew that in her sleep someone had moved her. Before she opened her eyes she could tell that the air around her was different. Gone was the smell of burning logs on the fire, gone was the pillow beneath her head that smelt so much of Perseus. The cosy room she had felt so at home in no longer surrounded her. Instead she could smell the sea in the air. They were close to it, but there was something else there that assailed her senses. There was perfume and incense that she believed she recognised. Gradually she began to open her eyes, meeting first the marble slabs that made up the floor of the temple that she had known since childhood._

 _She sucked in a painful breath as she realised something was very wrong. Perseus would not have brought her to such a place without telling her first. He would not have moved her as she slept. He would not have brought her to the temple of Nereus, the old man of the sea. He knew that her ancestors had built the temple in honour of the gods that they worshipped but he would not have wished to align himself with them. He did not agree with anything that they stood for. Although he had not verbally abused her parents in any way, Andromeda knew how he felt. he had been careful in what he said. He had not wanted to speak ill of them before her but his irritation had been clear. Andromeda had slowly come to agree with him. She was beginning to see for herself that her parents were ambiguous and selfish. They had chosen to sacrifice their own daughter after all._

 _I could feel Andromeda's courage rising and I think she felt that she had no other choice but to be brave. Finally she pressed her hands against the cool marble beneath her and raised herself into a sitting position. Beyond the great stone pillars that surrounded the inner temple she could glimpse the sea. The temple dedicated to worship of the god Nereus had been built on an outcropping that was the southernmost tip of the kingdom; the closest man could get to the sea. She knew then that there was a reason she had been brought to such a place. Her ancestors had considered the site of the temple to be sacred, hence the building of it upon that spot. Her parents did too. She did not think that her parents were nearby though. This felt sinister and cold. She began to look around her then, straining her eyes to see into the dark recesses at the back of the temple. That was where the increasing scent of incense permeated from. Her first thought was that it all felt like the beginnings of a sacrificial ceremony, but she quickly saw the error in such a thought. The interior of the temple was for worship alone. Sacrifices were made outside on the steps. No blood was ever spilt in the temple._

 _Gingerly Andromeda stood and observed the stillness of the temple. She was not alone there, that she could tell. They could not see her at present though, or at least she could not see them. She made the snap decision to run. She moved quickly, becoming aware then that she wore nothing on her feet. The thought did not phase her. A few cuts upon the soles of her feet seemed an agreeable price to pay to be able to flee from the place that had once been of peace but now felt full of evil. She moved soundlessly, not wishing to draw attention to her flight. The morning sun was filtering in through the pillars, leaving bursts of sunshine cutting through the shadowed marble. She forced her feet towards those sun dappled areas of stone as if they held some form of safety milestone. Her foot landed in a sun-drenched pool and the heat there gave her a strange sense of hope that lasted only for a second. She could move no further. She could not drag her other foot into the sun._

 _Her hope evaporated even as she cursed herself for not recognising the biting clutch of iron around her ankle. The chain was long, reaching from where she had lain when she woke to where she stood now, almost on the cusp of freedom. Someone was toying with her. She shook her foot and found no give in the chain at all. The pivot was strong. She would not be able to free herself. She turned back to stare into the gloom of the temple, dreading the face that she was going to see looming out of the darkness. I could feel her fear and I knew that she had no doubt in her mind. She knew who had taken her._

 _Despite her certainty, I heard the gasp escape her lips when the man finally walked out of the gloom of the inner temple. Behind him walked his men, and behind them were the temple priests. The men she had known since she was a child were aligned with her uncle. I think I'd have shared her sudden lack of faith in such a moment. I felt the war inside her head as it began. The priests were supposed to be governed by the gods alone. It could be either intimidation or money that had them siding with Phineus, perhaps even both. They were not as pious as she had always believed them to be. Her uncle too should have been a protective figure in her life. All that she believed since childhood was crumbling away bit by bit. She truly believed then in the sense of new life, that the man who she knew so little of had better intentions towards her than those she had known her whole life. Everything pitted her against Perseus. Their whole lives were opposite and a marriage to him would not be seen as a strong match at all. In fact, it would be seen as a very bad match indeed. There was no obligation in place for him to rescue her from her lonely rock. He had done so out of the goodness of his own heart. He had loved her as he set eyes on her, or so he had told her late at night in the comfortable darkness of his bed. There was no ulterior motive where he was concerned. In fact their union went against everything they had ever been told; and yet they were so certain of one another._

 _Her faith was gone entirely, I could feel it. She turned and tried to run again but something yanked on the chain. She tripped over her own feet as her body was pulled backwards and she slammed face first into the marble. She had turned her head at the last second so that the side of her face collided with the stone instead of her nose. She needed her wits about her, and blood gushing from a broken nose was not a distraction that she needed. She lay still for a few seconds as the impact made her bones tremble. Even with her last minute movement she could feel the tight strain of a cut at her hairline that oozed blood. She ignored it and tugged on the chain again to ascertain if someone still held it before she attempted to stand. The chain was pulled taught. I could feel her stomach churning with the realisation that her uncle had her almost entirely under his control._

 _She cried out in sheer frustration even as her uncle began to drag her slowly back out of the sunlight. There was very little light in the heart of the temple. No one had lit the candles or the fire perhaps because the priests did not want anyone to come upon the temple and see life within it. They had not considered the incense though. It was such a strong scent that Andromeda knew it could be smelt from the steps outside. It was almost choking her but she would not let herself cough. She resolved that she would not show such weakness before her uncle. She would not have him forcing her head into the bowl of incense in an attempt to disorientate her. She was roughly dragged up to stand again by her uncle's men who were leering at her as if she was their own to despoil. Andromeda fought against their hold even as she felt her uncle tugging on the chain as a form of control of her. The priests at least seemed to be aware of how wrong it all was. Their faces were pale and drawn, the worry in their eyes evident. It might not have been a sacrifice of a mortal life that was about to take place, but what Andromeda thought her uncle had planned was still a sacrifice in her eyes and quite possibly in those of the priests too._

 _They were moving then, past the fire pit in the middle of the floor and towards the alter that stood before the walls of the inner temple where the priests alone were permitted to worship. At the alter dressed with linens and crimson roses they stopped and her uncle turned to her. Immediately his men stepped back, their grip of her vanishing under the wavering glance her uncle threw their way. She felt no better without them holding her. She was still chained, that chain still held by her uncle. He tugged roughly on it so that she was forced against him and his hands released the chain to grab fistfuls of the gown she wore. It flashed through her mind then that he was not obeying the fundamental basics of a wedding ceremony. There had been no offerings to the gods and she could see no bath laid out for them to bathe in holy water. It was all a sham. She should have been frightened by the recklessness of it all and she was, but there was a strange sense of hope that bloomed within her. The hastiness of her uncle's actions and his lack of consideration of the gods meant that he knew they had limited time. He was worried. That could only be a blessing for her, or at least Andromeda considered that she must see it that way. If Perseus were to realise she were missing, he would know exactly what to do, but would he know where to look? If he did come though, what fate would await him? She was certain that her uncle's men would have been forewarned to expect trouble, to prevent anyone interrupting the ceremony at all costs._

 _Andromeda fought against her uncle's hold even as he clutched at the fastenings of her gown and tried to prise open the buttons that held it closed. She reached up on impulse and tried to scratch his face. His growl of anger pleased her in a way. She kept fighting though because she knew it was all that kept him from consummating their union. Once he had done so, things would become far more difficult for her. The priests and his men would claim to have witnessed such an act and she would be declared the wife of her uncle. There was also the dreaded thought of conceiving her uncle's child that made bile rise in her throat. She would not allow it to happen. She kicked and scratched every part of him that she could reach as she snarled insults at him through gritted teeth. His men did not step in because there was a gleam in his eyes. He was enjoying the fight. That was when Andromeda realised he had not really been fighting back. With a simple swift movement he had slammed his fist into her chest. It was a miracle that she managed to stay standing upon her feet. With the wind knocked out of her it was easy for her uncle to take hold of both of her thin wrists in the grip of his other hand and render her powerless. He threw her against the alter then, seeming to forget whatever ritual it was that had been upon his mind when he had been stood before the alter. Andromeda could do nothing as his legs trapped hers against the stone behind her. With his free hand he was tugging at the gown until some of the buttons sprang free and his hand gripped her thigh. She thrashed as much as she could in his hold._

 _"I am not yours to take!" she snarled._

 _He laughed. It was a hollow sound that was devoid of any real mirth. "And don't I know it! My brother was a fool to welcome the persistence of that man! He should have been given a purse full of gold coins in payment for his saving of you and sent on his way. You have angered the gods in giving yourself to him! This is your chance to repent, to marry me and offer yourself to me as an obedient wife should! You have readily given yourself to him and yet you will not allow me the same privilege? You are a mule now and nothing more! You should have known that when you offer yourself to one you therefore offer yourself to all! It is not for you to decide who you may have! The gods are angered by such a thing! They will bring their wrath down upon us all and all that we may do to try and save ourselves is to appease them in whatever way we can! Do you not understand that Perseus has angered the gods himself in his action of saving you! They will punish him! Perhaps you may yet save him if you repent. Would you not even consider it if it would save his life?"_

 _His fingernails were biting into the flesh of her thigh so sharply that they had drawn blood. Andromeda was still thrashing against him as much as she could but she began to still as his words washed over her. Despite her reasoning , there was a niggling doubt beginning to grow in her mind. Could she really save Perseus's life if she were married to her uncle? Would their lovemaking be forgotten and forgiven if she took for a husband the man who had originally been intended for her? Would Perseus just be marked a mistake in her past and left alone if she did what the gods wished? "A union with you would anger the gods more, uncle!" She exclaimed softly, the fight going out of her even as she still tried with her own words to convince herself of the truth. "Perseus and I are already wed in the eyes of the gods. We have lain together. Even without a ceremony that is enough for us to be considered husband and wife in the eyes of the gods! To take another man as my husband now would be dishonouring the sanctity of marriage! Perseus chose me on that rock! We love one another. He chose me and I chose him! I still choose him!"_

 _"It's a choice that I choose to honour!" The voice was disembodied, as if coming from the very roof of the temple and beyond. Andromeda knew it though and so did I. Perseus had come for her. Phineus's men had engaged in combat with a new band of men that were cascading through the pillars into the temple, knocking even the priests out of their way. Andromeda and her uncle were staring around the space before them in search of Perseus, her eyes hopeful whilst his were furious. Then out of nowhere there was the sound of a blade cutting through the air repeatedly. Andromeda could just make out the golden tip of a sword swinging to and fro in the air before her uncle was wrenched from her and thrown to the ground. Even as Phineus scrambled to get to his feet again, Perseus was concerned only with Andromeda. He swung the sword in an arc and brought it down on the chain that tethered her ankle. The iron fractured and split with the force of the blade, sparks flying from the chain as the sword seemed to almost hum above the din of the battle going on around them._

 _Andromeda shook her head at him even as tears began to fall from her eyes. "What are you doing here? He could kill us both!"_

 _Perseus swung his sword again as if to deter any attackers that may have been considering approaching when he had eyes only for her. "Saving your life," he replied swiftly as he gestured for her to stand alongside him._

 _Taking his hand, Andromeda realised he was shaking with rage. "Do not let go my hand," he whispered. "We will find a way out of this melee." They moved swiftly around the floor as they tried to avoid the clashing swords. The priests seemed to have deserted their temple which again brought on an onslaught of questions. If they truly were pious, would they leave their sacred temple to the destruction of men? It spoke volumes for Andromeda, who gripped Perseus's hand tighter. Her uncle was on his feet again too, his eyes following them around the room as he tried to find a path to them. Perseus let go of her hand then and pressed the hilt of his golden sword into her palm. Shocked, she turned to look at him in awe even as he pressed her fingers closed around the hilt. "Do not be afraid to use it! It is as much yours as it is mine. It answers your call also. It aided me and drew me to you on that rock. Without the sword I would not have come across you. It will not desert you now. If anything should befall me, you must use the sword. Tear each one of them down with it until you are free!"_

 _"Do not talk so!" Andromeda admonished even as she raised the sword in her own hands and held it aloft._

 _"Stay close to me!" he called as he turned to parry a blow with a dagger he had drawn from his waist. It too had a golden hilt encrusted with emeralds but the blade was silver and caught the light as he thrust it in the direction of one of her uncle's men. Andromeda turned away from him finally to cover his back, sure that she needed to be more aware of her surroundings now that Perseus was engaged in battle. She parried a few blows of her own, mystified by the sword that should have been too heavy for her to hold but that she was somehow able to swing through the air as if she'd been doing it all her life. It felt as light as a feather and entirely at home in her hands even though the hilt had been beaten into the shape that would fit the large hands of a man._

 _Still though she felt the presence of Perseus at her back. They moved as one through the hall of the temple, not realising they were reaching the very top of the steps until Andromeda stumbled upon them and fell, rolling out onto the rough ground before the steps. She had the good sense to hold the sword away from her body so that it did not injure her. The concentration in the air snapped. The air was suddenly a frisson of danger. Perseus hurriedly looked to her, his eyes no longer on the approaching man. She cried out to him as she became aware of his folly but his parry with the dagger came too late and was not strong enough. The blade was knocked out of his hand and fell, bouncing down the steps until it was just out of Andromeda's reach._

 _Her uncle was raising his hand from where he stood just inside the pillars of the temple, his own sword swinging wildly above his head and Andromeda knew what was about to happen just as he began to race towards Perseus, the sword in line to take off his head. There was not time for Perseus to react even as Andromeda scrambled to reach for the dagger._

 _"NOOOO!"_

The scream died on my lips as I flew up into a sitting position. It had all felt so real, and yet I was somehow smothered by a kind of gloom that encased the room. I saw only shadows for a few seconds as my eyes adjusted to the low light. My heart was almost bursting out of my chest, my breaths ragged and uncontrollable as I reached my hands out before me. I was able to discern the trembling of my pale fingers through the haze of the dream that still surrounded me. A new concern was flitting though my mind though. I did not know where I was for a good few moments. I stayed sat on the soft bed with the counterpane and sheets tangled around me as I tried to place where I was, the memory fragments of the last few days coming back to me in drips and drabs as I tried to calm myself.

Then the flood came. I remembered it all. _Elizabeth_. I was in her home. I was her guest, and she'd been kind to me. It caused a sharp pain in my chest. I did not want to like the woman and yet I had no choice but to be grateful to her and to her father for what was evidently their protection. I was under no illusions that if I'd sourced my own accommodation, I might already have encountered trouble of some sort. Whilst James had been sure that Hawkins was not someone we should have much more of a worry for, I was not so easily convinced. I pushed all of that from my mind and tried to focus on the shards of my dream that I was still desperately clinging to. The dream was somehow a more comfortable place for me to dwell because I could tell myself that it was all just in my head, that none of it was real. It was the events of my real and true life that were too hard for me to comprehend.

I fell back into the bed and lay for a few moments, suddenly aware of how quiet the house still sounded. It was still early. I did not know for sure how many hours sleep I'd managed to find but I felt all the more rested for the comfortable bed in a room that did not rock from side to side. For once I seemed to have enjoyed the stillness. The drapes and been drawn across the window which curbed most of the light, leaving a strange sort of gloom to settle over the room that I could tell would be bathed in beautiful sunlight once those drapes were opened. The darkness was oppressive somehow even though I could not summon up the effort to let light into the room again. It took a while for me to finally begin to untangle the counterpane from my legs, noticing for the first time as I did so that my bad knee felt rather unusual; weighty even.

I scrambled at the sheets until I was finally able to free myself and I pulled up the nightgown I wore in haste to find that whilst I slept someone had come into the room and had tied a compress to my knee. It had probably been Mary. I hoped it had been Mary and no one else. She had likely found the ingredients list I still had somewhere within my pocket and had recognised what they might be for. I realised quickly that it might have been quite the task for her to source all of those ingredients so late at night to put it all together and resolved to seek her out to thank her. I only hoped she'd not spoken of my injury to anyone, namely Elizabeth. I certainly didn't need the lady of the house feeling sorry for me or thinking me less than I was.

I untied the compress and let it sag onto the bed so that I could observe the mangled knee that I knew so well despite the low light in the room. I bent my knee and then straightened my leg out again, surprised to find that it did indeed feel less stiff. I wondered how long that would last. I wouldn't be staying in such a nice place for very long with someone like Mary taking care of me. Soon enough I'd have to leave it and I had the feeling there would be little time for compresses wherever I ended up. Suddenly tired of being reminded that I would soon be very alone in the world again, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. There was still a little shakiness there remaining from my dream, or at least that's what I told myself it was. I moved slowly towards the drapes, watching closely where I placed my feet so that I did not trip over any of the delicate trestle tables that littered the room. The last thing I needed was to topple to the floor with a thud and have the whole house come running to see what had caused the sound. How Elizabeth might laugh to see me in such a state. I can tell you that I scolded myself for that thought almost immediately.

I pulled the drapes open gradually, letting my eyes adjust to the bright morning sunlight that was visible through the translucent muslin blind that still covered the window. I could glimpse the garden through it; the wide expanse of lawn that tapered to an awkward point some way away and the water fountain that trickled silently a short distance from the house. Surrounding the boundary of the garden there was a lot of shrubbery and tropical flowers blooming here and there, making it a strange kind of paradise in my eyes. I'd not seen one like it. My own garden I'd known as a child was little more than a strip of shingle outside the front of my parent's home and a little pebbled yard at the back. The garden attached to my uncle's home in London had been more substantial but even then it had been a simple green lawn that stretched on for yards. It was bordered by a very meticulously trimmed hedge. There was not a flower or a fountain in sight.

I longed to explore the garden for myself but I felt that I should certainly ask permission first. That meant getting myself downstairs. I began to search the room in the hopes that Mary had left my clothes somewhere for me to dress but I could not see them. On the chair where James's coat still sat there was another item of clothing that was neatly folded though. I moved towards it and pulled it into my hands, quickly realising that it was a dress the colour of oatmeal. It was not a fine dress like the one Elizabeth had been wearing before but I was sure it was hers. It spoke of days lazing in the garden with nowhere to go and no guests to greet. It was something that she wore to feel comfortable. I was grateful for the loan of it, but as I held it up before me I wondered whether I'd fit into it. Elizabeth was certainly slender and I lacked a few inches of her height. Throwing one glance towards the door to ensure that no one had walked in on me, I began to pick my way around the room, washing in the bowl of water left out for me, perturbed to find it scented with oil. Then I pulled the dress up over my hips, happy to discover that the dress laced at the front. I'd not need anyone's help.

My own shoes had apparently passed muster and had been left under the chair. I slipped into them and only then did I decide to turn towards the mirror. I was shocked by my hair. I couldn't ever remember seeing it looking so healthy. It must have been something to do with those oils Mary had rubbed into it the evening before that had given it lustre and body. That and a good comb through. The curls bounced as I turned my head from side to side, catching the daylight and looking for all the world like it was someone else's head of hair. I'd never really understood the fascination that people had with red hair before but seeing mine so well cared for, I was willing to at least admit defeat on that one. It was a strange sight I saw, with my wondrous hair just managing to provide me with some form of shield that hid the fact that I looked exhausted. My lacklustre skin was pale and pulled taught over cheekbones that I was sure had never been so prominent. The dark circles under my eyes I knew were likely going to be a fixture that remained, but it was my eyes themselves that looked the most weary. They say that eyes are windows into the soul, and if that is true then my soul looked as if it were barely still there. My eyes were weary and dull.

I stepped back from the mirror sharply then, a quick intake of breath accompanying my shock. In those moments I realised that I had swiftly reminded myself of my mother. I had always known I looked like her, but with the mirror still in sight, even from far away it was an uncanny likeness. I recalled those painful days after my father's death so well. My mother had soaked and preened so that she looked as presentable as ever to the world but I knew that inside she felt like she was dying. She'd not only been forced to handle the grief of my father's death but she'd had to handle my own grief too. There was also the simple factor of money. How were we to get on when the sole source of our family's income had passed on. I think she had considered that we could return to her parents farm out in the country. It would certainly have saved money as we did not need the house on the main street of the town any more, but it would not have shaken my uncle's watchful eye as he waited for his debts to be repaid in one way or another.

I felt tears pricking my eyes then as guilt swam into my mind. My mother had so much to contend with. I had nothing like the worries she faced. I scolded myself as I turned away from the mirror, the thoughts of my mother suddenly cutting deep. I took in the rest of the room to ensure I'd not left a mess behind before leaving it and my eyes fell to a small wooden box that was sitting on a table beside the bed. Was that where Mary had placed my things? Sure enough, when I opened it I found all of my belongings neatly tucked inside. There was my mother's jewellery and that of Mick's wife's and there was also the scraps of parchment that held information I'd learned along my journey; both in regards to the compress and of who had killed my friends. I pushed the heavy coin purse aside, my mind somehow rejecting the thoughts of how that money might help me. I could not rely on money, I had to consider all of my options as if I had none of it for one day that might be true. began to worry a little as I did not see two other effects that I'd become rather attached to. I shook the box a little, seeing no sight of my necklace or of James's dagger. Closing the box I began to throw my eyes over the little tables about the room, seeing nothing that resembled my belongings on their surfaces. At long last though I recalled James's coat on the chair in the corner. I reached it swiftly and began to rummage in the pockets, sighing almost instantly with relief when my hand met cold metal. My panic dissipated and into my hand I pulled the two items. I had such an urge to wear them both. Perhaps the knife I did not need in a house such as the one I was in, but I wanted the comfort of it. I relinquished it back to the safety of the coat pocket as I reasoned with myself that governor Swann and his daughter likely wouldn't appreciate such a weapon. The necklace too I also put away for I knew how it could draw James's eye. If he returned to the house that day I did not want Elizabeth Swann to catch him gazing at my necklace. She would certainly think it an oddity.

Finally I made my way along the hallway and down the sweeping stairs. I had been right. It was still early. There were a few maids bustling about as I reached the ground floor but they smiled softly and quickly moved on. It was as if they'd been instructed never to be within the eyesight of a guest. I didn't really want them to go. I didn't want to feel so alone. It was the footmen at the door who directed me to a room known as the breakfast parlour. I took one glance into the room to the side that bore a very long dining table and grand decor before I moved on from it, realising that the best dining room in the house was likely not where the family had their private breakfast. Indeed they more than likely had quite a few dining rooms within the house.

Eventually I came to an ajar door through which I could feel a slight breeze. I pushed it open gently, prepared to greet everyone in the most cordial way but there was no one there. Someone had been through the room just seconds before though as the air was still upset. There was perfume still hanging in it. The table was laid for breakfast, with coffee and chocolate to drink and kedgeree and kippers to eat. There were also sweet meats, bread, fruits and a lot of other glorious things that I didn't recognise. It was certainly not how breakfasts were done in Ireland or aboard ships. I actually thanked the smell of the food for giving me my first pang of hunger in days. It would be incredibly rude though to start eating without my hosts so I resolved reluctantly to wait. I moved in the direction of the cool breeze that was floating in from the open french doors. I observed the green of the garden and knew that some poor gardeners must spend most of their day watering everything out there to keep it all looking so green and fresh in such a climate. There was the slightest flutter of pink silk then ghosting around the shrubbery before Elizabeth walked into sight. She was dressed as she had been the evening before, very finely. I was once again reminded of my inadequacy. Whilst her dress she had loaned me was comfortable and practical, if a little long; I knew no one would compare either of us. I paled in comparison to the beauty that had ensnared James's heart.

She knew I'd seen her. She was beckoning for me to join her in the garden. I wanted so much to sneak away from her, to return to the comfy bed I'd slept in and stay there rather than speak to Elizabeth. I wondered vaguely if I could feign sickness from my room for a few days until all of the fuss died down but even before I knew it, my feet were moving, taking me towards her.

* * *

 _Through the open French window the warm sun  
lights up the polished breakfast-table, laid  
round a bowl of crimson roses, for one –  
a service of porcelain,  
near it a melon, peaches, figs, small hot  
rolls in a napkin, fairy rack of toast,  
butter in ice, high silver coffee pot,  
and, heaped on a salver, the morning's post._

 _she comes over the lawn, the young heiress,  
from her early walk in her garden-wood,  
feeling that life's a table set to bless  
her delicate desires with all that's good,_

 _that even the unopened future lies  
like a , full of sweet surprise._

 _ **Still Life - Elizabeth Daryush**_

* * *

 _ **How perfectly does that poem fit with the ending of this chapter?! I was going to make it an extra long one but I've split it in two as I think the next one is one to wait for. It's an Elizabeth and Fiona only chapter! Lots of dialogue and intelligent woman kinda vibes!**_

 _ **I'd love to read anyone's comments on the chapters so please leave me one or send me a mail if you'd rather! I'd love to know what people are thinking and feeling about the story!**_


	43. Chapter Forty Three - An Irish Temper

_**Thanks to the Guest for the review! The dream may be a premonition of sorts; it's certainly going to give Fiona food for thought over the next few chapters!**_

 _ **I really love reading people's reviews on this story so I'd be really grateful if anyone reading could let me know what you're thinking of it if possible, just so I know that people are still reading it!**_

 _ **Onto this chapter. I started out not liking it at all and it took rather a long time to get right, but I think it strikes a fair balance. Fiona and Elizabeth are about to discover a little more about one another!**_

* * *

 **Chapter Forty Three - An Irish Temperament**

The scent of tropical flowers assaulted my senses as I finally reached the doors that opened out into the heavenly garden. I hesitated for just a second after Elizabeth turned away and meandered further into the foliage. She was expecting me to follow her, and I suspected she wanted to speak privately with me away from the prying ears of the house. I knew that the majority of the conversation would likely be uncomfortable for me but I reckoned I had little choice in the matter. Elizabeth had welcomed me into her home and shielded me. I owed her my gratitude and my compliance. I also felt that I owed it to James to try and get along with the one person who meant so much to him.

I stepped gingerly out onto the pathway that cut expertly through the lawn and followed its lazy curves until I moved behind some shrubbery and lost sight of the doors. Eventually, after cutting through archways fashioned out of hedges and dodging a fish pond and a second water feature that had been hidden from the house's view by the shrubbery I came to a little trestle table that was bordered by two stone benches. Upon one, Elizabeth sat. Her eyes were closed, her chin tilted up as if warming her beautiful face in the sun. I knew that she had been listening for my approach though. She wanted me there before her so that she might probe my story from me. Jack Sparrow had told me that Elizabeth was an adventuress at heart. She would want to know even the things that I thought inconsequential.

"No one will bother us here, if that is what worries you," Elizabeth stated simply. "Mary knows I wished to speak with you in private and my father never comes this far into the garden." I did notice that she failed to mention Will. Something told me he'd had fair warning to stay well out of the way. "I know the table is laid for breakfast. This will not take long at all but you should sit." I complied meekly, sitting opposite the woman who had still not opened her eyes to look at me. "Did you sleep well? If there is anything at all that you require or wish for, you must tell myself or Mary. We should like you to feel comfortable Fiona. You are our guest after all."

I'd already decided that lying was not the best option when near this woman. Something in her self-assured air told me that she wasn't the kind of person to fall for mundane white lies. No, she would see right through me, I suspected. I told the truth. "I cannot say that I slept as well as I would have liked, but it had nothing to do with my comfort. I'm very grateful for your hospitality Elizabeth."

Perhaps she had been expecting me to lie to her. She opened her eyes quickly and lowered her chin to observe me carefully. She nodded slowly as if my truthful intentions met with her approval. "Make no mention of it. After all, this is not about hospitality is it?"

I avoided the question swiftly. "You have a beautiful home...and this garden is wonderful. I've not ever been in one like it."

Elizabeth was aware that I was swerving the topic of conversation she so wished to discuss but seemed agreeable to humour me for the time being. She smiled keenly and glanced around at the garden. "Yes it is quite the best spot on all of the island I think. Here I can forget everything for a while. I am no longer my father's daughter. I am simply a wanderer enjoying the world around her. You did not have a garden then at home in Ireland Fiona?"

I was relieved to speak of something so free and easy. I told Elizabeth succinctly about my parents and my home back in Ireland. She listened intently, no doubt developing her more probing questions in her mind to ask me once she had made me feel more at ease.

"You still think of it as home don't you?" Elizabeth asked me when I'd fallen silent.

I shrugged. "It's not been home for a long time. I suppose I still think of it as that when it's on my mind. I believe that my parents are still there in a way; or at least the memory of them is. I imagine I'd feel closer to them back in Ireland. I think the sea is rightly now my home in a way even though it could not be further from the memories of my parents. I feel more comfortable there, more safe on the sea. I've come to trust it a great deal. I cannot speak so freely of such feelings before Commodore Norrington but from how Jack Sparrow spoke of you, I got the impression that you might understand such a notion."

"I have not thought of London as home since we left it," Elizabeth mused softly. "Since my mother's passing I think it felt less and less like somewhere I wanted to be. I was not grieved to leave the smog behind. I do have more of a free spirit you see. My father does not like that so much, but he is resigned to the fact that it is who I am. I suppose the Caribbean is home to me now. I feel like these islands and the waters around them offer me the kind of freedom that straight laced London would not have permitted. I am still a gentleman's daughter but I feel that things here are a little more relaxed. They were even before I met Jack Sparrow. I suppose I did overstep the boundaries though. Indeed I pushed them further than they have ever been pushed before. I have thoroughly eradicated the young woman woman I was in London. There are many who disapprove. None of that really matters to me. I do understand your words. The thing about pirates is that they are all for themselves, whether you are man or woman they will assess you as threat in the same manner. They make no discrimination. I rather like that about Jack. As I'm sure you will be aware, that sort of thing sits a little differently with men of a naval education. I understand from Will that perhaps James completely missed the mark where you are concerned. Indeed you certainly changed his mind rather well. He believes you so capable that I dare say he'd let you sail one of the ships in the fleet docked here. Looks are deceiving. You are not what I expected and I must apologise for judging you too harshly before I met you. I did not expect you to look like someone I might see in a smart dress in any town. You certainly seem to have had a good upbringing from what you have told me of your parents but I think you've perhaps had more of an opportunity than I have to explore the world without hindrance. I'm rather jealous of you if I'm entirely honest."

I shook my head knowingly. She wanted my secrets and I only hoped she would not try to prise them from me by force. I did not believe for a second that a woman like her could be jealous of someone like me. She had the love of two good men. Although I didn't know that much about Will Turner I could certainly tell that he loved Elizabeth as much as James did, if in a different way. "I would not say it was without hindrance. Once I met Mick O'Malley and sailed with him I certainly felt like more of an explorer. I felt more alive. Before that though I think I was not as strong as I should have been. I do not consider that you'd envy me the time in between if you knew all of what came to pass. My weaknesses made me vulnerable."

"James sees you as quite the formidable force though, Fiona." Elizabeth paused in her speech to observe my reaction to her words. "Indeed he speaks so highly of you that I am a little in awe of you. You've had quite the time of it over the last lot of years. I would like to tell you that vulnerability and weakness are not quite the same thing. Sometimes our vulnerabilities are what actually strengthen our core beliefs and keep us fighting. I believe that thinking of my mother is a vulnerability I carry. I think of her every day and despite wanting to recall only the best memories I have of her, sometimes I do recall the darker memories from her last few weeks of life. That is not a weakness. Thinking of how my mother was resilient and compassionate until the very end only instils a certain iron composure within myself. I can do anything I set my mind to, so long as I remember what made my mother such a great woman. It does make me vulnerable to think of her and it does hurt, but it is so far from weakness. I would hope one day you might consider me trustworthy enough to know all that befell you in your life, but for the foreseeable future as we get to know one another I am content just to hear the tales of adventure that you feel comfortable and happy to tell me. After all I too have sailed with pirates. I always long to hear the tales of the sea. I have no desire to push you further, but know that I will never view a woman such as yourself as weak. Certainly as you sit before me I see your vulnerability. You are exhausted still, frightened, worried and all of that has actually kept you functioning in some strange way. It has kept your mind from the real torments. I think that perhaps now is the time when you may sink into that abyss, with a roof over your head and a full stomach there will be less practicality to worry over. I think James knows that too. That is in my own opinion another component of why he chose to return to his own home last night. He does not wish to crowd you. He no doubt believes that the company of another woman is what you need. He has not seen you as weak, but has misunderstood your vulnerability for I do not think you readily worry about that which poses you the most danger. Indeed I think rather logically you have opted to let your mind dwell upon something that will right itself in the end. It needs no fretting over. Before we return to the breakfast room I must first ask you what your intentions for the future are."

"The future...is a scary thought," I admitted frostily. Admitting to myself that Elizabeth's words were indeed quite a surprise, I couldn't help the sudden spark of animosity that stirred within me. She had quite the mind. of course James would have felt drawn to her.

"It does not have to be, not yet at least." Elizabeth stood then and rounded the little table until she was able to perch beside me on my own stone bench. I shuffled away a little, very aware of her perfumed scent and dismayed that I also carried it on the borrowed dress I wore. I did not want to smell like her any more than I wanted to dress like her. "You are of course welcome to stay here as long as you like but I get the impression that you are not one for idleness. You long for action, as I do myself. Perhaps I am better schooled in the art of waiting but I think I know a kindred spirit when I see one."

I was grateful for her hospitality, glad to have put a face to the name and all of the things I'd learned of her over the last lot of months, angry to find myself unable to hate her and pleasantly surprised by her kind treatment of me. I did not want to be her kindred spirit though. I did not want to be her friend. I shuffled away a little more. "I can't ask you all to protect me forever," I tried at politeness. "I don't want that if I'm honest. I want to go back to Ireland. I think it's best. I will not be made to feel like a burden." Elizabeth had opened her mouth to protest that but I held up a hand to stop her and was surprised when she did. "You wouldn't intentionally think of me as that I know, but I know what I'm like. I'd only cause trouble. This thing...with this man Beckett could go on for years. I wont be the cause of a war between him and the commodore or your family Elizabeth. I want a peaceful life even if it is full of adventure. I wont let myself feel like I've become a burden to anyone. I want a free life. That's what the sea gave me and I won't give it up, not for anyone."

"You give your opinion decidedly and readily. That is good. You will need such nerve before long I think. You know this too. You shall not succeed in pulling the wool over my eyes, however. I sense an anger within you; a quest for justice. You would see Beckett punished for his crimes. You want to avenge your friends. It is natural. You have not yet worked out how to do so. At present I think you are very aware that to simply seek out Beckett and shoot him in cold blood like he did you and your friends would not help others. You are worried for James. You believe that his helping you might cause him harm of some form. Whilst I appreciate that you have a care for him, you must respect his decisions. If James has made the ready choice to aid you, then you are not to blame for anything that should befall him. Not that I am encouraging you to go off in pursuit of Beckett though. Such vengeance against a man like that takes careful planning and precision. I'm by no means belittling your capability Fiona, but you shall have to work together with James. You shall have to help one another. To attempt such an act of revenge alone would be foolhardy. Would your late captain wish for you to die pursuing justice for him? The way James told it, your captain saved your life. His dying act was to pull you out of the line of fire. He wanted you to live. It is something that you should think on. You should not readily forget the things you have accomplished, with and without James. That sword that James has promised to show my father later today proves to me that you are both capable of working together despite the obstacles in your way. Have you not considered what Jack Sparrow will have undoubtedly told you about _The Tideless Haven_? You came back from it, sword in hand. Both yourself and James did not even think of the consequences when you stepped onto that island and went in search of its secrets. Neither of you doubted one another for a second. That was the foundation your trust was built on. Do not let it waver. That resilience you both presented that day is remarkable. There is also something about both of you that those islands and caves wanted to protect. The stories say that those who venture there do not return. Yet, here you are before me, for all the world speaking as if you do not matter! No, I am sorry but there is a connection between yourself and James that you can no longer ignore, Fiona."

Of course she was right. No matter how much it pained me, I had to admit that. I nodded slowly. There was an easy silence between us then that I had not expected to find. What can I say; I might not have wanted to like Elizabeth, but I did. "You are right about anger Elizabeth," I mused eventually. "But I have no notion of how to act against a man like Beckett. I know your advice is to let the commodore take the helm but I will not drag him into a fight that has nothing to do with him. I've already tarnished his reputation enough. Does it sound odd to say that I also feel rather protective and territorial of the anger within me. Beckett killed my friends; my family. I want it to be me and only me that exacts revenge. I want to look him in the eyes and tell him he will face justice for what he did. I want that so badly, but I'm scared my rage will get the better of me. The commodore keeps telling me that I'm rational but I don't know where he gets that from. I've played true to the stereotype of my people in that I have an Irish temperament. I've been rude to him and uncouth. I barely did a thing he instructed me to do and I was generally a nuisance in the weeks before we came together to find that sword. Even afterwards on the beach I had an outburst. Perhaps he thinks I am someone to be laughed at and humoured lest my anger get any worse. I've got a quick temper. I get riled easily. I snap. I'm the first to admit I've a sharp tongue. I don't think of myself as a violent person unless I've been attacked in that manner first but I don't know how I would react if I came face to face with the man that killed my friends. I can't be trusted."

"And there is the rationale that James was speaking to you off." Elizabeth smiled softly and patted my knee lightly. "You are aware that you may not entirely be in control of your emotions, so you are forcing them into the deepest and darkest recesses of your soul. You are bottling everything up as I suspect that you have done for a long time. That can be seen as rational in a way. You are attempting to control what affects you. You've kept a lid on that which might put you in serious danger but at some point you will begin to feel you cannot hold on to it all for much longer. As a woman I understand this. James does not because he is a man. He has been schooled his whole life to act and speak as he sees fit, to react as his conscious dictates. He acts upon his emotions and feelings because he has never been told not to. Men are not angry and hot headed but assertive. We women were taught since birth that emotions and outbursts were signs of weakness. Indeed women are hardly able to do much more than birth children and sew in this world and even then the men take issue. Think of all the women who gave birth to their first born who just so happened to be a baby girl and were never really forgiven for it. We are considered volatile and all because we bottle up all of the pent up anger and frustration that we have been forced to hide for so long. That and the fact that we bleed once a month makes us entirely useless when it comes to affairs of business or state. We are weak in the eyes of most men. Indeed it's rather a contradictory view of course. Look what we women have weathered and hid over the years, and we are all still standing. It keeps us fighting, drives us forward. I think you are rational Fiona, far much more than you are aware. Indeed I think when it comes to James himself and your relationship with him, you have been entirely too rational."

I felt my face beginning to redden and not with the heat of the morning sun. It was one reaction I already had no control over. I was no more in control of my love for James than I had been of my hatred for him when I first stepped aboard _The Surgence_. I let the silence wash over us for a while as I tried to muddle through all of the thoughts in my mind to find a suitable answer. Elizabeth had clearly been able to see through all of my previous nonchalance and I had no wish to pretend ignorance and offend her. Instead I decided that I would be as vague as possible.

"Indeed you are right. At the end of the day his helping of me may have caused some issues with regards to his position in the navy. The commodore should not have allowed me aboard his ship let alone shown me hospitality. He should have lumped me in with the pirates I was sailing with. Of course I've been rational in believing that I must keep distance between us both. I do not wish to harm his reputation further or cause a rift between himself and his senior officers. I would never want to cause such trouble for him. His kindness over the last months has only reinforced that way of thinking."

Elizabeth shook her head knowingly. "Very well Fiona. Keep your cards close to your chest if you will, but very soon James may show his own hand. The thing is, you are both very similar. You do not see yourselves how the rest of the world does. You are too exacting, too degrading of yourselves to ever believe what anyone ever says about you. Neither one of you will ever have a hope that the other might one day esteem you highly. You do not allow yourselves to think it. You should be careful. Push James away any further and you might loose him forever."

I stood then, too annoyed and anxious to sit still. I paced around the little table in and out of sunlight and shadows that reminded me swiftly of the dream I'd woken from not long ago. I mentally shook the images away, not calm enough to process it all at once. "You speak as if you know our minds like a book you have read over and over again. Perhaps I've been wearing my heart and soul upon my sleeve a little too readily. I did not realise how discernible it was. I only hope that I have not as yet made a complete fool of myself. It pains me enough to have you know of it. Elizabeth, your kindness to me is something I appreciate greatly and I would not wish to outwardly offend you with my words. I do however believe you to be wrong. The commodore is a man who demands respect and obedience. I do respect him very much. For that reason alone I do not think we should talk so. I do not think he would like to have his own feelings dissected for our pleasure. He is a proud man, and a decent one too. I would not wish to repay his kindness to me by discussing his private matters. At first he saw me as a means to an end, I think. I was nothing more than a way for him to find some mythical crown. Our relationship did improve in time. We trust one another. All things considered, he has been kinder to me than he should have been. One day he may come to regret such kindness. Although I admire him a great deal I would never consider that he feels anything towards me other than friendship and trust. I do not wish to overstep the mark, but I always saw within him a kind of longing, a broken heart that I think is still in dire need of mending. I will not speak to degrade myself in comparison as I so want to. I will simply say that I still believe he has a care for one he has loved dearly for a long time. He will not be able to see another whilst in that haze. Love has not treated him kindly, and yet he wishes for it all the more."

"Another way that you are both similar..." Elizabeth mused. I'd turned away from her to hide my pain filled expression but I think she sensed that I was done talking. If she knew that it was her I'd spoken of, she made no mention of it. "Let us return to the house if you wish. I can tell you are overwrought."

I spun on my heel, just managing to stop myself from stamping my other foot in indigence. "Without sounding rude Elizabeth, I'm not overwrought. We've just spoken of how women are viewed in this world. Let us not make things worse by judging one another with such words. There are men enough to do that for us. I'm not overwrought." Maybe I was, but I wasn't about to let her know it. Even in times when I had felt as if I was barely holding on to my sanity I had still managed to carry on. I was capable and I knew it. I had proven it time and time again. "Far from overwrought in fact. I'm actually hungry for the first time in days."

"I do imagine that the breakfast laid out might have gone cold now. I had not anticipated such a frank discussions so soon. Of course we shall speak again in the same manner. I wish to know you better Fiona. I wish to help you and James if I can. Come back with me to the house, we shall see what we can make of what is left of the food."

Did she want to try and help James out of the goodness of her heart and because he was a friend or was there some part of her that recognised her own share in the blame for James's grief?. I think it was both. I think I did see within her a genuine want to put things right. She did feel bad to have caused so much upset. I've said it before, but I shall reiterate. I do not think Elizabeth was to blame in any way for James's lot. She chose her own path and her own life. It was something about her I admired. There was no need for her to atone. I did consider how wrong it was for her to try and force James and I together though. Although she could certainly guess at our feelings she really could not hope to see the very workings of our hearts and minds. James certainly was as impenetrable as marble. I doubted even Gillette or his cousin Ambrose would ever have been able to chink his armour plating, to see inside that shell he had so carefully built.

Elizabeth stood with me and together we began to skirt our way along the path, the breakfast room coming back into view slowly. It was only as we grew closer to it that I was able to discern an older man sitting at the head of the table, watching our walk back towards the house. Elizabeth's father. He nodded once to Elizabeth when he thought she was close enough to notice the gesture and carried on his quiet conversation at the table with Will. Just before we stepped inside again, Elizabeth took hold of my elbow, forcing me to halt. Her breath ghosted over my neck before she began to whisper to me.

"Fiona I do not wish to pressure you in any way. That is why I speak of this matter only now as we return into company. You must take all of the time that you need to think upon this. You may tell me as little or as much as you like about yourself. I only wish for you to know that anything you tell me will be held in the strictest confidence. I will not tell another living soul; not even James. There is fire and fight inside of you, along with your rational mind. James told me of how he came upon you in viscount Townsend's cabin. I would have you know that you can tell me anything you like. I have sailed with pirates, remember? Nothing you might say could shock me. If there is anything you wish to talk about or anything you might need, I am here. You acted rationally in your self defence. That an evil man is dead is of little consequence to me really. You are not alone. You have friends."

"I don't know what I'm expected to say to that..."

"I am not prying," Elizabeth continued as if I had not spoken at all. "Your secrets are your own to keep. Certainly James had no reason not to believe your word on things, other than the fact that you may not have felt comfortable divulging certain aspects of that evening's events to him. If anything untoward did occur then I beseech you to feel you can trust me with such knowledge. I would not have you suffer alone. I think you have done far too much of that in your life. I hope that there is nothing for you to tell, that James is right and that you were as unharmed as you claimed to be. Even if that is the case, and you are disturbed or worried by anything, I would like you to speak to me if you feel that you can. I can understand why you may not wish to discuss such matters with James. He can be a little ignorant of how his aloofness comes across at times. To talk of such things with a man can sometimes make the worry all the worse. Not seeing the world through women's eyes can make even the best of men like James a little insensitive."

"He's been far from insensitive," I supplied thickly. I was offended on James's behalf. "He's been kinder to me than anyone I know. Perhaps he is even kinder than my old captain was."

I moved then, taking the initiative and walked with intent back into the breakfast parlour to introduce myself to her father.

* * *

 _ **I didn't think I'd particularly like writing Elizabeth and Fiona dialogue but I've actually quite enjoyed it. The next chapter delves a little more deeply into Elizabeth's life through Fiona's eyes and the women might be about to strike a chord with one another. There is more interaction with James to come in further chapters, but I think that making you all wait and in turn making Fiona wait is how the story should pan out.**_


	44. Chapter Forty Four - An Olive Branch

_**Thank you for the reviews as ever, love hearing what people are thinking and feeling about the story. So this chapter's title kind of says it on the tin. We have a lot more of Elizabeth and Fiona which I didn't see coming until I had it written. I wasn't sure I was going to post it but I thin it feels right to. I think in order to stay in favour with James, Fiona is of course going to have to keep in with Elizabeth. Speaking of James, he'll be back next chapter ;)**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Forty Four - An Olive Branch**_

In essence, Elizabeth's father was everything that I expected him to be. He was polite and cordial to me, with his curious gaze fixing upon me more than once during breakfast but for the most part he left me be. If I'd been alone I most likely would have ate in a rather unladylike manner but I ate in silence, trying to be as delicate as I could despite my newfound hunger. The result of course was that I ate only a reasonable amount slowly before I felt full. The air was filled with light conversation between Elizabeth and her father, permeated with the odd admission from Will. If governor Swann had questions to ask of me; and I was in no doubt that he must have some, he seemed agreeable to leave them until a later date. He and Will clearly had matters they wished to discuss and took their leave of us shortly after breakfast. I was left alone with Elizabeth once again.

I waited in silence as the other woman finished her breakfast, noting with slight embarrassment that no matter how civilised I thought I'd been, Elizabeth made my own eating look positively barbaric. Her dainty movements were almost fairy-like in comparison to mine. I tried to push away the comparisons between us I kept drawing in my head and instead turned my attention back towards the garden. When I finally heard the clinking sound of cutlery on china, I turned back to find Elizabeth staring at me unabashedly. With a swift motion she bid me follow her back out into the garden again. Gone was any animosity or curiosity from our previous conversation. Elizabeth instead treated me as if I were some acquaintance come to visit the house for the day. This garden stroll was more careless, ambling over the lawn together so that Elizabeth might introduce me to some exotic flower that she thought I simply must see close at hand.

Elizabeth was proud of her home, that I could tell. She led me right around to the side of the house and through another door. We headed down into the basement of the house where she showed me the kitchen and where the sweet fruits and bits of marzipan were hidden away so that I might help myself if I had a hankering for them. We tasted fresh bread just out of the large bread ovens and found that small dates and raisins had been mixed in with the dough before cooking for a sweeter taste. We shared a moment of simple appreciation for the sweet bread that opened my eyes to the life I might have had if I had stayed in either Ireland or London. Perhaps I would have made friends with women my own age and we'd have gone shopping together if we'd had the coin or at least we might have spared enough to share an afternoon tea. Our praise of the new recipe appeased the lady who had baked it so well and she offered to cook it for myself and Elizabeth should we ever request it. It felt odd to be addressed so, to be considered alongside Elizabeth even as a guest. Surely it must have been clear to everyone that I was not Elizabeth's equal in any way, shape or form. Why they took me into consideration I did not really understand. Later on I would think upon the fact that as a guest it was likely that the household staff were required to treat me well.

It did not bother me as much as it perhaps should have. In the back of my mind I already understood that Mary's kind treatment of me the evening before had been just that; kindness. I think even with the risk of her good wage the maid would have attended me with just as much care. We left the kitchens behind and moved past little alcoves that held all of the trappings that the running of such a house might require. Even the strong winter boots of Elizabeth and her father were held there, though I had the sneaking suspicion they did not not have much cause for such winter wear on the island of Jamaica. Riding boots and habits were also there and looking rather dusty in their misuse. I suppose there was little need for horseback riding when they lived only a little way above the town. The clutter of the basement which I had known was the domain of the staff alone was rather haphazard and perhaps even dangerous to the untrained eye. Elizabeth clearly had no qualms or contempt when it came to exploring the one place in the house that no one expected her to be. She weaved in and out of the jumble of obstacles without even looking at them, confirming that she did indeed know the path away from the kitchen like the back of her hand. I was left to follow in her wake, trying to keep in line with the path her voluptuous skirts made and hoping that my knee would not bang into anything. It felt so much less stiff than it had done the day before, likely thanks all to Mary's compress that I'd found attached to my knee that morning. Perhaps I'd been a fool to ignore the doctor's instructions about taking more care of my injury. It's not something I think on greatly though. At the end of the day there is only so much you can do for yourself aboard a ship.

At length we found ourselves climbing a narrow staircase that led out into the main vestibule of the house. I'd not taken in much of it the evening before clearly, for I was a little taken aback by the sheer size of it in daylight. The marble floor beneath our feet shone even in the dull light that permeated through the translucent drapes that covered the windows. Every table surface and trinket gleamed. Even the cast iron hand rail and balustrade that enveloped the staircase was perfectly polished. Clearly the house had been very alive whilst I slept. Something about Elizabeth's nature has me thinking that she had the household duties and responsibilities well in hand. Of all the staff I'd met thus far though, not a one of them appeared unhappy. In fact, they seemed very happy with their lot indeed. Evidently the Swanns were kind and decent employers. I wondered vaguely as I followed Elizabeth across the hall towards a set of closed doors whether James would be quite as good a master for staff to work for. He liked everything just so and I had the niggling doubt that he'd be at all accepting of a lack of diligence. Elizabeth on the other hand seemed as if she might brush off such a thing and tell herself she'd worry about it the next day. Everyone in the house already knew what to be about and that seemed to be that. If James had any staff I imagine they'd be a lot more subdued than the ones employed by the Swanns. When he was at home, I had no doubt he'd still be throwing himself head long into any work he could possibly do because he was dedicated to his position. That would require a household staff who were capable of carrying out their duties as quickly and quietly as possible. I did not think him a tyrant, before you get me wrong. There was just that exacting need that he had to try and make everything as perfect as it could be. It's almost like a control mechanism. All that he had left in his life that he could control was his work.

I threw a wayward glance out of one of the windows as I continued to trail behind Elizabeth into what appeared to be a drawing room. Do you ever get that feeling sometimes, that as you think or speak of someone you suddenly expect to conjure them? My thoughts had not done so though. I'd expected to see James making his way up the hill towards the house again, but the only people I saw were gardeners. To be honest I am still not sure if I wanted to see him in that moment or not. There was a part of me that longed for the familiarity of him in the alien house but I was beginning to feel slightly apprehensive about just what I should say to him when or if I did see him again. Things were different now. We were not stuck aboard a ship together, humouring each other because there was only so many people we could make conversation with. I was no longer his only confidante, even with regards to the sword and the events concerning Townshend and Beckett. He was now at home amongst his friends. Surely he would reach out to them first before confiding in me.

I was beginning to feel the pangs of loneliness again that I'd somehow managed to dispel over the last lot of months. It was as if it had crept back upon me as I slept and was now bombarding me in such a way that I felt close to panicking. The only unwavering resolve that kept me together was that I did not want Elizabeth to watch me crumble. I allowed her to lead me through the maze of drawing rooms and parlours on the ground floor of the house and I'm sure she was talking to me but I heard very little. I was nodding my understanding and agreement every so often when she turned her head to glance at me but I'm sure Elizabeth was perceptive enough to know that I had other things pressing upon my mind. We climbed the stairs again at length and hope bloomed within my chest that she might lead me back to the room I'd stayed in the evening before, that I'd get to rest alone for a while and regroup my thoughts.

Elizabeth opened the door of a room I'd not yet seen and I began to despair of being shown the interior of yet another grand room. The room was a lot smaller than I was expecting, with a large window that flooded the space with light and made it somehow feel almost out of doors. The decor was decidedly pink and was a little dated, but none the less there was a charm about it. There were bookcases along one wall that held many a dogeared novel and a couch and armchair that had been perfectly placed to catch the best of the light from the window. There were also little trinkets and ornaments scattered along the book shelves too but they felt somehow more personal than any that I'd seen around the rest of the house. I could sense so well that Elizabeth regarded this room as hers and hers alone. I wondered vaguely what her bedchamber looked like but knew that it was far too rude a thing to ask her.

"This is where I come when the weather is not so appealing," Elizabeth mused as she strolled towards the windows and drew back the translucent chiffon drapes to give us a view of the garden below and the hills above. "It is my private parlour. No one ever comes in here save myself. If you ever wish to be alone in this house, this is a good spot. You must use this room as it pleases you, and of course you must borrow whatever books you might wish to read. These are all my collection. Perhaps that might shock you, but my father was never keen to prohibit my education. No matter the contents of a book I believe he thought that my reading of it would be a far more useful passage of time. He was worried I think, that I might behave in a way that's rather unbecoming of a young lady of society. I've always been fond of the outdoors and I've got this inexhaustible curiosity for the world around me. I wanted exploration and adventure even before my mother passed on. My father therefore thought it a safer bet that I read rather inappropriately and live vicariously through my books. He was foolish to believe my curiosity would be sated. My extensive reading only heightened it. Shut away as I was, those stories and worlds in the books around us became something like an unattainable dream to me. Perhaps we may have a similar taste in literature. We are after all both forward thinking women. Read whatever you wish, and keep any of them that feed your curiously. I only ask that you be so good as to let me know which ones you choose to keep so that I may replace them for myself."

This offer felt like another twig off the olive branch that I was so resolutely trying not to take hold of. Elizabeth was truly trying to build bridges between us both but up until that point I think we both knew I was reluctant to enter into any kind of familiarity with her out of sheer petulance. That's what it was really and I knew it even then. I had no reason to dislike her apart from her previous dalliance with James and even then, I wasn't sure I could reserve the right to be affronted on James's behalf. I sighed heavily as I threw my gaze onto the many broken spines of books that had been well loved and well read. I knew how my father had felt about his own books and how I'd treasured the few ones I'd owned as a child. I could not ignore that kindness for I knew that in offering me her books, Elizabeth was offering me a part of herself.

I nodded slowly as I lowered myself down into the armchair. "I've my own money, so if I like any of the books I'll buy my own copies." I knew my reply had sounded rather cold, so I hastened to redeem myself. "Of course I'd be grateful if you could point me in the right direction of a book shop that might sell them. I know what these all must mean to you so I'd not want to take any from you. I appreciate the offer though, I really do. Under different circumstances I would love nothing more than to lock myself away from the world in this room and forget it all for a while with my nose in a book. I'm not sure though that it's a wise course of action right now."

Elizabeth perched on the couch. "We have time Fiona. You may not believe so but we do. My father and James are well respected men. They will clear all of your troubles up, you'll see. I do not presume to understand what worries you have in your head and your heart but they might be eased even just for a few hours by the comfort of reading. It is what soothes my own mind."

I didn't think upon Elizabeth as a reader but I knew well enough that looks could be deceiving. "I only vaguely recall the last book I read cover to cover," I mused as I stood again and wandered towards the book shelves. "It was likely when I was still at home in Ireland. In the years afterwards I did not have much time for it. Indeed it was the first real novel that was not a fairy tale that I ever did read. La Princesse de Clèves, by madame Lafayette; have you ever read it?" Elizabeth nodded slowly. "Alas, not the greatest of starts but it led me on to better books. My father bought it for my mother but she did not have much of a mind for reading. I sneaked it up to my own bedroom and read it. I had to return it to it's place on the bookshelf in my father's study each day so that I would not be found out. I thought I was a real risk taker back then. Ironically my parents more than likely knew I was reading it. My mother wouldn't have liked the idea but my father would have found it funny. He wanted me to be educated. Like your own father I think; he'd have coped with me reading such a thing if I learnt from it. It might have been a tragic love story but I suppose it was more true to real life than the old Irish folk and faerie tales I was used to. I spurned it for others for quite some time but after my father died it was the only thing I could reach for. That poor old crumpled copy more than likely became someone's kindling long ago. I've no idea what became of my mother and father's possessions once they passed on. I am grieved that I was not there to salvage them, or at least see them into a good home."

Elizabeth smiled sadly. "I am afraid I do not have a copy of the book or I would give it to you. If you do have your own money then why...forgive me for asking but why have you not bought a copy for yourself?"

"The fear of it all I suppose," I replied swiftly. "That and the fact that I've not much cause for carrying a weighty book around with me on my travels. I make do with maps and charts. I think those speak to me a lot more than books do, come to think of it. I find a comfort in them. It's the oddest thing. I cannot explain it well, except perhaps to say that to look upon a chart and see all of those plottings and worlds makes it all the more believable that there's a life out there to be lived. There's a comfort in knowing where you're going that's for sure but there's this sheer elation I feel when I think of all those places yet undiscovered, as if life has this way of showing us new phases and lands that we never even dreamed of or dared to believe. I get the same feeling when I am at sea; this notion of never ending possibility that drives me to believe that I have a future, that there's a place for me somewhere. I cling to it. It's what's kept me alive."

Elizabeth was staring at me with wonder in her eyes. I think perhaps she did not quite comprehend my desperation, but she saw in me the need for such hopes. She understood the survival that was presented before her. "There are maps and charts here in this house of course, but I warrant they are nothing to rival the collection that James has. He should show you them. he should show you his home. Of course he should. I shall ask him to-"

"No please don't do that!" I cried.

She shook her head knowingly. "You cannot hide from him Fiona. James will make his return to the house later today. Are you going to hide away upstairs and not speak with him? He will worry if you do that. It strikes me that you've been overly candid with him and he has come to rely upon your presence. I believe that without you, he will not enter into any discussions about how we must move the present situation forward. Allow him the favour of seeing you somewhat rested and comfortable so that he may alleviate his worries."

I'd finally turned away from her to skim my fingers lightly over the spines of Elizabeth's books. "Elizabeth, what cause can he have for overly worrying about me? I'm in the safest house in Port Royal, or so he said himself. He's free to go about his life again without the burden of me. I expect he'll be glad to finally be rid of me when he sets sail again..."

"Now we both know that just isn't true..."

My fingers stopped abruptly as they caressed the spine of a book titled _The Metamorphoses of Ovid._ I stared for a few seconds at the cracked spine as if it might sprout wings and float up from the shelf into the air. Something within my chest stirred and at the same time it was like a remembrance. I wanted to pull the book free of it's slot between the other battered books and devour it all but I was frozen, my hand somehow unable to move. I was frightened to read it, frightened to discover the truths it might hold. within it lay the story of Perseus and Andromeda. If I read such a tale, would I still look upon the world in the same way? Even back then I understood the importance of what I was seeing in my dreams. I knew I was not mad. I knew I was not ill. After all, I'd heard Andromeda speak to me whilst I was awake. In Townshend's cabin she'd been like a spirit making a connection with the living but all the same I knew it had really happened. I did not doubt anything I'd seen whether asleep or awake. I just had to try and understand how it all corresponded to my own life and the events in it.

"What have you found?" Elizabeth had noticed my distraction. I heard her moving across the room as her voice broke my thoughts. She stopped beside me, trying to decipher which book had caught my attention. I turned swiftly away from the book with a heartbeat, fighting the urge to reach out towards it even as I moved away from it. Elizabeth turned and watched me as I approached the window. I was not ready for Elizabeth to know everything that I had in my head. She might have sensed how I felt about James in some way but I was sure she did not quite understand how I saw my connection with James. She might really have thought I was mad if she had. In my own mind I knew the first person I should speak to about it all when I was ready was James. I felt that he had that right. Until I felt like I could understand it all enough to explain it to him therefore, I had to remain silent on the matter."

"Nothing happened in Townshend's cabin." My statement flew from me in a rush, so keen was I to move Elizabeth on from that curious book that still called to me from across the room. "Nothing happened. I think perhaps it would have, had it not been for the dire danger his ship had been in."

"And for your own quick thinking I presume," Elizabeth countered as she moved to stand alongside me once more.

"I killed a man," I stated blandly. "I cannot be proud of quick thinking when it caused such an outcome. I do not regret my actions, for Townshend would have abused me and killed me if he'd had his own way. I know all that. I'm just not proud to have killed a man, to have taken a life no matter how much harm he meant me. Who say's I've the right to do such a thing?"

"You saved yourself. You showed a remarkable strength and courage in your actions. You showed that no matter what you present to the outside world there is a part of you that knows your own worth even subconsciously. You had a reason to live, to fight. Even if you will not act upon such a reasoning, they saved your life. Do not turn your back on them. Covet them. I understand your apprehension. James can be a formidable fool sometimes. You must allow him time. Now that he is upon land again he will have time to mull things over. He will come to his senses eventually."

I laughed coldly and even I was shocked by the sound. "I've given him rather a few dilemmas to figure out while he's back on land," I said as I pressed one of my hands against the window that was warm in the heat of the sun. "I doubt there would be much time for him to think of any other matters. He is methodical, that I know. He will not waste time with such absurd thinking. Besides, even if it were true..." I stopped for a moment as I contemplating daring to believe that James might share my feelings. I shook my head blandly and turned to face Elizabeth to find her already watching me closely. "No. He'd never think such a way but even if he did, how could it ever work. We are so far removed from one another. I would be entirely the wrong choice for a man like him. There is too much at stake for him."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Do not look for my agreement upon such things. You speak to a governor's daughter; a gentleman's daughter who married a blacksmith and a pirate. Anything is possible in my eyes. Despite our current perils, I am truly happy to have married Will. Where there is love, hope begins to bloom. You can overcome all sorts of things where there is love. Yourself and James might just prove that in the future. In essence I think the circumstances of birth are what make us who we are. You are a product of your upbringing Fiona, and I think you should never deny it. To deny it is to allow everyone else to disgrace you also. If you were not brought up as you were, if you had not endured such hardships then you would not be who you are today. James has an appreciation and a fondness for you that cannot be denied. Even if it were just friendship, he has given no inkling that he cares at all what your circumstances are. I think perhaps once he might have had such a veiled view, but in recent years he has undergone such a change. Perhaps that was partly my fault. The great commodore Norrington who was destined for greatness and still I could not find it within me to love him as a wife should a husband. That taught him something I think. Since he has come to know you though Fiona, I see an even greater change within him. It is as if he has shaken off all forms of judgement altogether. I am more than likely right in believing you both may have clashed once or twice. I dare say you gave him a sound tongue lashing. He probably deserved it as well. He's proud and there's nothing wrong in that. He has much to be proud of. Sometimes in the past it did not come across in the best manner though. That has all vanished. He is somewhat humbled; somehow reconnected to the world around him. You did that, Fiona. I hope one day you will not think so harshly of yourself. You were right earlier. We women face far too many obstacles in life without pitting ourselves against our own future. You need to be strong and at least pretend at confidence. It is how you shall get by. I dare say it's how you're still standing. It's a different kind of confidence though, to believe yourself worthy of a man's love. It takes time. Do not push James away if he makes advances. You shall not want to but your doubting of his feelings might give you cause to. Do not do it. Even if you are not ready to speak your own feelings aloud to him, allow him the chance to discover them naturally."

"You keep speaking of time Elizabeth, but we have next to none! As soon as James has dealt with the matters regarding Townshend, I'm bound for Ireland! We won't see one another again and perhaps that would be for the best."

"You do not have to leave. You could stay." Elizabeth smiled softly. "Stay here with me. I should like to have a friend."

I felt oddly touched by her words, so much so that I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I didn't know back then if I could really be her friend after she'd broken James's heart. "What about Beckett?"

"Oh Fiona I think that together we are all certainly a match for the man. Once we have all of our eggs in the one basket, I think we shall be quite the formidable force. James will have news from Fort Charles when he arrives today. We shall see how the land lies then. I do hope he's a little more rested and has his thoughts together. I think yesterday was quite trying for him. I do rather think that you've addled his brain, Fiona."

"Me?" I waved off her suspicions because there was a part of me that still believed it was seeing Elizabeth again that had made him out of sorts.

"Yes, you! He might have gathered his thoughts again but I dare say they'll scatter quite quickly when he sees you looking a little more rested. That hair of yours appears to have taken on a life of it's own. That will certainly distract him if nothing else!" I was shaking my head at Elizabeth's outlandish statement when a bell tinkled somewhere nearby. "I think that's luncheon."

* * *

 _ **I've really quite enjoyed writing for Elizabeth as I think she and Fiona are very similar. I think there won't be much more bonding between the two women as in two or three chapters the action will be kicking off again. James is back in the next chapter and Fiona's about to get a shock!**_

 _ **Please leave a review if possible, I'd love to know what you're thinking of the story. It's hard to gauge if I'm going in the right direction with a chapter if there are no reviews.**_


	45. Chapter Forty Five- Vision of the Future

_**Thank you as ever to the guest for the review! Yes I think Elizabeth is one of those characters that has a comfortableness and familiarity about her even for me when I'm writing her. For Fiona I think she actually sees herself and Elizabeth as two halves of the one coin!**_

 _ **In this chapter, James and Fiona are reunited! This is the beginning of some important conversations between them both and there is also a rather special moment that wasn't planned but was an idea that came to me as I wrote; the clue's in the title! ;)**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Forty Five - Vision of the Future**_

After we had eaten we retired again to Elizabeth's own drawing room. The sun dappled table that Elizabeth and I took seats around felt somehow perfectly placed for an afternoon of work in the perfect light. We'd been alone at lunch as Will and governor Swann had taken their respite in offices elsewhere in the house. It felt odd to me to know the two men were likely discussing me in some manner just a few walls away. I got the impression that Will liked me well enough but it was Elizabeth's father I could not read so well. He had not thrown me out of his home just yet but I knew that might be only in favour to James. I was still finding it all rather odd that someone like myself had just been welcomed in to such a home with no questions asked. So I suppose that wasn't strictly true. James had likely had to answer quite a few of governor Swann's questions the evening before on my behalf. I squirmed a little in embarrassment as I thought about all of that. I didn't really like the idea of the dark and low parts of my life being gossiped about over whiskey. I tried to push the thoughts of their private conversations from my mind but that only led me to thinking of James even more. I felt my nerves begin to build as I thought about seeing him again if he chose to return to the house that day as Elizabeth had said he would. From our vantage point though at the rear of the house we would not see his ascent up the hill. I did not know which scenario I preferred in truth; to have knowledge of his imminent visit and have the time to fret over it or to be entirely surprised by his coming. I felt my stomach begin to tie itself into knots and I was glad I had not managed to eat every much for lunch.

Still there was a niggling thought within me that longed to return to that book that had hypnotised me so much. Elizabeth had already chosen her book and had lain it down on the table. It appeared to be something agreeable and exactly the sort of thing she would be expected to read. From where I stood I glimpsed illustrations of plants and flowers as Elizabeth flicked through the pages, stopping occasionally to make note of something on parchment. Whilst I was intrigued to see what it was she was making note of, I knew better than to move closer to try and catch a glimpse. I knew Elizabeth herself was curious about me but she had not pushed me to reveal overly much about myself just yet. She'd offered me her respect and I felt duty bound to return it. Eventually I gave up grazing the shelves and settled upon the leather bound copy of _Ovid's Metamorphoses_ that had so bewitched me since I'd glimpsed it's spine earlier that day. My hand shook as I reached up to retrieve it from it's home on the shelf. There was rather a lot of dust around; I realised. No one had touched the book in a very long time it seemed. When my fingers finally grazed the worn leather cover nothing happened. Perhaps I was lacking in a little intent. Wasn't that something I'd always noticed about the Andromeda of my dreams. She had determination and conviction. I yanked the book suddenly and decisively until it was free of the surrounding novels and rested in my palm. Nothing happened. I sank down onto the couch as Elizabeth had occupied the armchair so that she might rest her book on the table nearby. I stretched my legs out as I sank back a little guiltily into the thick cushions but Elizabeth seemed not to notice my casual stance. I was in the perfect spot with the sunlight streaming in through the window and I could feel the heat of the room beginning to comfort me in such a way that I knew I'd be dozing off before long.

I let my hand rest against the still cool leather of the book cover and waited. It was as if I'd expected something to happen, for some vision to come forward and show me more of Andromeda's story before I'd even had a chance to open the book. Nothing happened though. Gingerly I began to move my legs, curling them up beneath me on the couch. If Elizabeth was aware of such movements, she made no remark of them. I knew then that I'd have to explore the book itself. It was as if the sheer lack of any vision led me to the realisation that something somewhere wanted me to open that book and read the written word for myself. With the book resting on my lap I gingerly prised the cover from the pages to glimpse the first leaf. I could no longer feel that strange energy I'd felt earlier on when the book had still been upon the shelf. There was no excitement in the air, only a slight apprehension. What if the book told me something that I did not want to hear? What if I found no connection at all within it and what I'd seen in my dreams?

I closed it again with a snap and glanced up at Elizabeth just a second before a bell rang somewhere in the house. Elizabeth's head jerked up, her eyes meeting mine across the room. "That's someone calling to the house," she said as she set down her quill and rose to her feet. I slid my own book onto the arm of the couch and left it behind as Elizabeth had done hers and we both made our way to the door. I was sorrily glad Elizabeth led the way out into the hallway because it meant that she could not see the apprehension on my face. I'm still not sure to this day whether I was flushed with excitement and embarrassment at the thought of seeing James again, or whether I was pale with the nauseating nerves that swept over me as we hurried towards the balcony that looked out over the atrium of the house. My heart was hammering in my chest by the time that we turned the last corner that led out onto the balcony. I sucked in a sharp breath as my eyes cut through the iron spindles that held up the balustrade. Below us the tall front doors were just closing behind the somewhat imposing figure that I'd come to know so well. His hat hid from me his features but he walked with purpose as he was met by governor Swann and the two men shook hands warmly. He wore a new uniform entirely that had not suffered in the elements of the sea and was starched and ironed to perfection. He no longer wore the strong leather boots that sailing somewhat required. In their place were white stockings and black leather shoes with large gold buckles that caught the sunlight as he crossed in front of one of the windows.

Will appeared from one of the doorways and greeted James too. The blacksmith's eyes then found Elizabeth who was by then on the top step about to make her way down to them. I'd not moved though. I was frozen at the end of the hallway. Now that I'd been confronted with the sight of James again, I was not sure how to approach him. We were no longer two people stuck aboard a ship together. Our rapport was likely going to be wholly changed from what it had once been. He was likely going to want to do things a little differently and I had no way of knowing just how differently. I thought perhaps he might place distance between us both and that we'd appear as little more than acquaintances to everyone else. I was certain he would not wish to appear overly familiar with me. It was almost like a physical pain in my chest that I experienced then as I reasoned with myself that it would only be right for him to pull away. Cold and civil were the two things I should expect from him and little else besides. A man like that was not destined to be with someone like myself. For the sake of his own reputation and sanity he would be required to give up whatever connection we had forged. For the sake of his own prospects if nothing else, he needed to sever whatever connection there might be between us. Perhaps it would be healthy for my own sanity too. Having him in my heart was sending me crazy. I'd spent every waking minute and even most sleeping ones thinking of him since I'd come to the Swann's home. There was far much more that needed to be considered. My priority should be finding a way home and out of danger. I had my own money which should have been more than enough to get me far enough away from the Caribbean that I might begin to feel reassured by my surroundings once again. James's offer to take me home himself was gracious and admirable but I couldn't allow him to do so when it was plain for me to see how much pain it would cause me and of how much trouble it would cause James. I had to begin to plan my future without him and I needed to do so as soon as I could get a chance to be alone once again. I dearly longed for my own freedom and I would have to take it a lot sooner than I expected. I could not help despairing though at the thought of him being glad to be rid of the burden I had become to him. He was free to be the young gentleman that he had been trained to be all his life, without me trailing around and causing disruption.

His head turned suddenly as Elizabeth reached the bottom step. He barely glanced at her as he followed the staircase up to where I stood. I was still a little in shadow I knew and his unwavering gaze forced me to take a few steps forward into the light so that he might see me better. He observed me keenly, his eyes roving over my face and perhaps even catching in the abundant curls of my hair before his emerald eyes came to rest upon my own olive green ones. I couldn't quite work out what it was I saw in them, but it was something unexpected all the same. I had expected him to greet me cordially and with a warmth that would not linger once he no doubt told me we could be nothing more than passing acquaintances. Instead I saw relief. Had he expected me to take flight in the middle of the night? Even if I'd wanted to I think exhaustion would have had a thing or two to say about it. Such an expression was a match for the well rested complexion he wore that day and his lips turned up just slightly in the ghost of a smile before he nodded to me once. His eyes remained fixed upon mine. If I'd not been sure of my feelings before then and I'm pretty sure I had been; that moment would have told me everything I needed to know about how I felt. That enduring gaze and that proud nod knocked the wind out of me. It was as if he was seeing all of my secrets laid bare before him, all of my flaws and insecurities and yet he was resolute in his regard for me.

 _My mind began to spin away from me, to the deck of a small ship where he stood at the helm. I was emerging from below decks to greet the slightly overcast but bright day, the wind catching my red hair as I waved up to him with a smile. Neither of us attempted to shout as the creaking of the sail masts and the buffeting wind prevented us from hearing much else. He simply returned the smile and nodded to me, a silent and comfortable acknowledgement of some long ago forged agreement that was written with our eye contact alone. The image distorted again, flinging me into the doorway of a small cottage in the middle of a rainy wet day. Our drying linen in the garden was sopping wet and he was slipping and sliding through the mud as he ran to tear down each peace in turn and throw it into the basket cradled in one arm. I didn't step off the doorstop, knowing he'd scold me if I did. I caught his eyes as he turned to grab the peg holding the last piece of linen on the line. I let out a roar of unsolicited laughter as he almost slipped but righted himself just in time. Part of me began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose to make me laugh. He nodded at me with triumph as he finally took the linen into his possession successfully and began to race towards me along the muddy path. We were both laughing heartily as he barrelled towards me, the scene shifting before my eyes just as he reached out to snare my waist with his free arm. He was beside me suddenly, both of us full of nerves. His hand held mine tightly, rubbing circles into the back of my hand with his thumb. I felt restrained and restricted and not just by the four walls of a grand hallway that surrounded us but by my clothing as well. I'd never felt so refined and yet so uncomfortable all at the same time. I glanced up at him to find him trying to reassure me with his eyes despite the fact that he was a little nervous too. I smiled back grimly after his resolute nod that told me no matter what happened, he would be by my side always. I knew that I was being rather foolish. After all that we had weathered, this little inconsequential meeting was nothing at all. It was the same thing that all couples went through at some point. We were not the first and would certainly not be the last. I also questioned why I suddenly cared so much what one person might think of me. His grip grew tighter as we stood before those polished doors before us, not knowing what was to meet me on the other side. Just as a click resounded throughout the hall and the doors began to swing open it all vanished. I was alone then; alone and sat in a rather cold and despondent room as an unknown man spoke candidly with me. I was not affronted by his presence which told me that I knew him in some aspect. Then he smiled softly, as if he knew my nerves were eating me alive. Then he stood and reached over to open the door. Outside in the corridor James had been sat with his head in his hands, his hair ruffled and out of place, as if not being permitted to be in the room with me had rendered him insensible with worry. His head had jerked up though at the sound of the door opening and he jumped to his feet, his eyes catching mine immediately to search out what I myself was feeling. It was I who nodded this time as the doctor ushered me to my feet and out into the corridor. James's shoulders sagged in relief as my nod told him that all was as well as it could be; that the fretting was over. I saw the beginnings of tears well in his eyes as he pulled me into his embrace with shaking hands. A sunny but windswept beach somewhere not quite warm enough to be called comfortable. We were both standing at the water's edge as the waves broke over our bare feet. There was a charge in the air; or at least that is what it felt like. James slipped his hand out of mine, a lopsided grin gracing his face as he waited for me to turn my head towards him. When I did he winked. I shook my head knowingly as I held his mischievous gaze. I waited for a few seconds, drawing out the momentum. Inside I was ready to fly though, my limbs poised for the fight. When we finally did nod to one another, we began tearing at our clothes, abandoning our layers on the beach as we stripped down to our undergarments. I saw him surreptitiously glance my way as he almost stumbled kicking his trousers from his feet. I snorted with laughter as he tried to right himself. He was waiting then; uncertain. I let out a childish giggle as I deliberately slowed down my movements, my fingers ghosting over my pale skin as I reached up to slide the straps off my shoulders. I let him watch as he had done so many times before and I let my undergarments pool at my feet one after the other until I was bare before him. I threw him an impassive expression that I knew would leave him squirming and longing before I moved off, splashing into the freezing cold water with a peal of laughter even as I heard him curse behind me in annoyance at loosing to my distraction and he raced in after me._

"Are you alright?"

My breaths came in short and sharp gasps as I struggled to flood my lungs with air. I was still on the balcony, my hand clutching the iron balustrade before me for dear life as I tried to stay standing. I could feel James's hand wrapping tightly around my upper arm as he reached me. I tried to nod slowly as the haze before my eyes lifted.

"I'm...I'm f...fine," I stammered softly, my breathing still a little uneven.

"No you're not, my love!" Mary was before me, her warm hand resting on my cold cheek for a second and showing me how warmth had escaped me in the last few moments, as if I really had run into freezing cold water. "You slender girls always eating so little and worrying so much about everything. That's what you'll get for not eating, a light head!" Mary clucked around me before she stepped back and nodded to Elizabeth who'd apparently followed James up the stairs towards me. "I'll fetch some sweet sugary tea and bring it to you. There's nothing can't be fixed by tea!" Mary swept off downstairs and I opened my mouth to protest her going. I felt guilty in giving her the errand when I was nothing to fret over. The words did not come though because everyone's attention was fixed upon me. At that very second I felt James's arm curve around my waist tightly, as if he thought I might topple over. His warmth seemed to envelope me, soothing me even as I could feel my legs still trembling beneath me. I could not bring myself to turn and look at him though, to see those eyes that had so vividly loved and laughed with me in the vision I'd just seen.

"Perhaps you should lie down?" Elizabeth queried as she came closer. "I did drag you all over this house this morning like a little lost puppy. Perhaps I should have waited until you were better rested?"

I waved away her words with my hand, trying to offer her a smile. "I'm fine, honestly. It was just a funny turn that's all. I'm already feeling better." _A funny turn_. If I'd had a penny for every time I'd heard my mother use that phrase I'd have been rich before I ever left the shores of Ireland. It was something she said to disguise any kind of illness that she suffered from. My mother was prone to faints when she bled once a month. She thought my father had no idea what was wrong with her. My father was a lawyer and he was prone to clever observations and knew well enough when to take himself off out of our home when my mother was suffering from one of her bad moods. He'd go off and conduct his business elsewhere, having to hurry back the odd time when my mother took a _funny turn_. I'd never had such troubles. I never really can recall ever being very ill as a child apart from the odd sniffle or cold. What can I say, I was well used to cold and dreary weather in Ireland. That is not to say that everyone was the same. I was lucky I guess in that my father had a respectable occupation and thus there was always food on the table even if it was just bread and cheese. Others were not so fortunate. My mother and father agreed fairly early on in their marriage that each week they would try to put a few coins past to give to someone in need at the Sunday mass service. It was a little something of nothing but it made me proud of them and upset that they were gone all at the same time. My mother's old excuse felt so alien on my lips, so much so that I almost wanted to berate myself for the use of it and to try and take it back if I could. It served it's purpose though. It explained my spent appearance in those last few seconds without my having to divulge any truths of what I had just seen.

"Let's find somewhere comfortable for us all to sit then," Elizabeth mused uncertainly, her eyes still watching me warily before they flickered towards James for his approval. I nodded my agreement then, not willing to have James make another decision for me. I might have been still trying to cope with my close proximity to James but I wasn't going to turn into some fainting fancy that had to be lifted and carried everywhere. If only I'd known how I'd ended up in that comfortable bed the evening before.

"You can let go now," James said gently to me and I realised I was still firmly holding the iron balustrade as if it was anchoring me to the world. I began to lessen my grip slowly but it took a few seconds before I felt able to let go completely. I immediately began to pull away from James's hold, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the assailing scent of starched collars, soap and floral spice that he emanated. There was a part of me that longed to move closer to him, to lean into his hold and breathe in his unique scent but I would not let myself. Even now I cannot imagine what his reaction might have been even then. He'd have been startled I'm sure and no doubt highly embarrassed. His grip of my waist slackened and I breathed a sigh of relief as we followed Elizabeth down the sweeping staircase until his touch was barely there, his hand hovering at my back, ready and poised to resume his grip should I need it. I wanted to roll my eyes in annoyance at Elizabeth each time she glanced over her shoulder at me to check that I was still standing. I felt a little more grounded when we reached the solid flooring of the atrium.

The salon that Elizabeth had shown me earlier seemed a little more inviting in the afternoon sunlight that filtered in through the lace blinds that covered the windows. I perched on a chair at the table as Elizabeth moved to pull the blinds back and let in the light. Will moved with her, lifting the latch on the french doors that opened out onto another part of the garden that I'd not noticed before. A gentle breeze wafted into the room. Alone on the other side of the room as I watched the married couple from where I sat, I quickly became aware of James's presence behind me. With Elizabeth and Will out of earshot he took his chance to approach me candidly. I felt the weight of his hand resting ever so lightly on my shoulder as he crouched to speak to me. "Are you quite sure you're alright?" The tips of his fingers ghosted over the bare skin of the base of my neck and I had to brace myself against the involuntary shiver that raced up my spine. Thankfully, James appeared not to notice. His hand had moved again so that the material of the borrowed dress and tendrils of my hair separated our skin. It didn't help my nerves any. In fact, when I turned I found his face so close to my own that my natural reaction was to draw back from him. His concerned eyes pinned me in place though, so much so that for a few seconds I forgot to breathe. It occurred to me only much later on that the careful placing of his hand might have had just as much to do with his sudden insatiable need and desire to run his hand through my hair as it was to assure himself of my well-being.

"I'm grand," I replied swiftly as soon as I caught my breath again. He did not appear convinced so I shrugged a little, aware of his hand slipping from my shoulder as I did so. "Perhaps Mary's tea will perk me up a little."

James nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed upon mine. "Then at least assure me that if you have need of anything; anything at all that you will make me aware of it?"

I laughed lightly then even though his careful attention was puzzling me. "What could I possibly have need of? I think I've more comfort in this house at my disposal than I've ever had in my life before. I should thank you for bringing me here even though I did not want to come. Although I'm not sure how I move on from here, I've come round to the idea that a few days respite in this house won't hurt me too much."

"We will speak of moving on in time," James whispered softly, "But it is not a conversation for today or even perhaps the coming days I think. We have time."

"You all keep talking about time as if we have it in abundance. The last time I checked my pockets it was gold there and not time. Time won't get me home to Ireland but money will." I finally slid back into the chair, putting a little distance between us. James's eyes followed me and I knew he had noted the decided movement. "I think it's time I remembered who and what I am. You might have the freedom to think of time as something to be welcomed commodore, but in my life it only adds to the predicament. Sitting idly by won't reclaim my life. I have to start moving."

James drew back suddenly, returning to his full height and I realised it was because Elizabeth and Will had turned back to face the room. "Later we shall talk," he whispered just loud enough for me to hear even as I watched Elizabeth's curious eyes as they drank in our close proximity. James moved then, and I realised as Elizabeth and Will joined us at the table that what was about to transpire was a meeting of sorts. Elizabeth was skirting around the table as if she intended to seat herself beside me and I had the strangest notion of welcoming her closeness.

Despite James's concerned kindness, I still knew where I stood in the grand scheme of things. I was casting no aspersions. For both of our sakes I still thought that keeping our distance was best. I at least was coming to understand and appreciate that I might just have Elizabeth as a friend and confidante whilst I was her guest. It was instinct I suppose that told me she would support any decision I made. Whilst it was James who was known to her, she'd very quickly come to know my own mind and she likely felt sorry for me. At the time I didn't want her to and the notion was abhorrent to me but it did afford me a distraction. If I was puzzling over my newfound friendship with Elizabeth, I was not worrying and fretting about my increasing feelings for James. It seemed only right therefore that I let Elizabeth in, that I allow her to befriend me as she so wanted to do. Perhaps when I left I would then be able to recall my stay with fondness and not miss James too much.

It appeared though that James was unconsciously going to make me miss him very much indeed once we parted. Elizabeth did not reach the seat beside me in time, nor was she even attempting to. James took the place I had thought to be hers and as he sat I was engulfed once again in the harmonious but torturous scent of him. He removed his hat finally, placing it off to the side on the table as the door opened and Mary bustled in with a tray of tea. The clinking of china as she laid the table with the tea things did not distract me at all from the handsome man beside me who seemed to be very aware of every movement I made. As I accepted a cup of sweet tea from Mary and brought it to my lips to sip it, I was extremely conscious of not just James but everyone around the table watching me. I still wonder what they thought might happen. Did they think I was going to taste the sugary tea and burst into song, getting to my feet again to dance a jig before them? Or did they think me that unstable that I'd either swoon into a dead faint or throw myself down in a fit of tearful despair. Needless to say none of the above happened. I sipped the sweet tea silently and observed the garden as the others picked up their own tea things, finally assured that I wasn't about to cause a scene. I did feel that the warm and comforting sweetness of the tea fortified me somewhat and smiled my thanks at Mary. She was now the only one paying attention to me. It was somewhat of a relief. At least with her there was no judgement. Incredibly she winked at me, as if she knew exactly what I had been thinking at that moment.

She bustled out of the room then and I was left to mull over the vision I had just experienced. I had never anticipated seeing anything so wondrous before but I did not lie to myself. I knew the vision was impossible; and yet it had instilled a kind of hope within me. It might not have been a vision of the future but it was some kind of subliminal message I thought, that if I stayed strong and didn't push away any offer of James's friendship that things might turn out alright. I heard the hubbub of conversation around me then and decided to try and at least listen in if not take part in it. The last thing I needed was for them to think I was so faraway in my own mind that I was not worth consulting. I was an adult, a grown woman who had no reason for slipping into daydreams even if they were wonderful. No, that was all for later on when I would be alone once more with my own thoughts. Then I would try to pull apart all of the pieces and make sense of them.

A bell rang somewhere in the house. It sounded awfully like the one that alerted us to James's arrival. Footsteps marched across the atrium floor and my breath caught in my throat. A sickening dread began to fill my chest. Had Cutler Beckett the brass neck to show up on the doorstep of the Swann's home just like that? Was I seconds away from coming face to face with the man that had killed my friends? My hand jerked where it rested on my lap beneath the table top. I winced as I forced it to remain there. In my sudden fear I had been about to reach for James's hand. That would have caused no end of misinterpretation and shame. I wrung my hands together instead, balling them into the folds of the dress as the front doors opened and closed. More footsteps crossed the atrium floor this time and in a more measured march than before. I couldn't take my eyes off the door, my heart racing as I anticipated seeing the face of the man I now hated even more than my uncle.

* * *

 _ **So who do you think is about to come through that door? Could it be Fiona's uncle, or Beckett as she believes? Or is it someone else entirely?**_

 _ **The next chapter sees a little debate and planning within our group and one or two touching moments between James and Fiona.**_


	46. Chapter Forty Six - A Journey Confirmed

_**This chapter sees the beginnings of the beginning of some real planning in the group with a few little surprises here and there!**_

 _ **Thanks as ever to the guests for the reviews. Lets see if you were right about who's behind that door!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Forty Six - A Journey Confirmed**_

For the second time that day I felt my lungs constricting, and I couldn't take a breath. All of the sounds around me faded away so that all I could hear were those footsteps outside drawing closer and closer to the door. When I look back I'm not really sure what I thought might happen if Beckett did enter the room. I had James seated beside me and he had placed himself whether consciously or not in between myself and the door. In all likelihood I was in very little danger at all with him around. If I'm honest with myself I think it was fear of my own reaction that had me so worried. To look into the eyes that had been the last thing my friend had seen before his untimely death was not something I had any desire to do for I did not know what I'd find there. I suppose I had the answer to many of my questions before me in those few seconds. I was angry and upset about the death of my friend and always will be but I think after so many months at sea I'd begun the process of coming to terms with it. Revenge in it's purest and simplest form was no longer a desire of mine. Indeed I had no notion whatsoever of launching myself at Beckett as soon as I saw him so that I might gouge his eyes out with my bare hands. No, I wanted something much more worthwhile. I wanted justice. Perhaps that was the first time I had truly been an adult. To be so aware of my emotions and able to channel them in the right direction is something I'm proud of. I could have made quite the fool of myself during my stay in Port Royal if I had not been so put together.

It all felt suddenly so very real to me as the footsteps stopped outside the door. I knew then that I had no desire to be in the same room as the man who had ended Mick's life but I had little choice but to stay put. I was not about to turn and ask James if I could leave. I had no doubt in my mind that he would acquiesce but I had to make myself and him believe I was made of sterner stuff. If I was going to embark upon a journey back to Ireland by myself I would have to prove to those around me that I was capable of doing so. I dragged in a short breath finally as the door swung open and Mary bustled in to announce the newcomer.

The small breath I'd taken and held rushed out of me in a wave, relief trying to force me to sag back into the chair. I resisted such an urge because I felt foolish all of a sudden, my face reddening with shame at my silliness even though I was sure no one had noticed my apprehension. Gillette stood before us then, also in a new uniform and his arms were laden with different packages some of which I recognised. Mary began to clear away the tea things as she made her away around the table. Of everyone else in the room she was the only one who appeared to have noticed that I wasn't entirely myself, that and the fact that I'd barely touched the tea before me. She cleared everything else away but left my cup before me, giving me a pointed look that told me I had to drink all of the tea. I nodded to her with a small smile and picked up the cup to take another sip. I hadn't ever been much of a tea drinker. Whilst I suppose that nowadays every problem in Ireland is either solved with a cup of tea or a pint, tea was not so popular back then. Only the well off in Ireland had tea. My father would get to sample it sometimes when he worked for those who could afford it. He'd go off up the hill to the grand house there and sip tea with the local earl while he helped solve their legal queries. My mother was more fond of the beer that was commonplace in Ireland because she'd grown up drinking it after a long day's work on the farm. My father was often gifted wine from his wealthy patrons but he would always bring it home to share it with my mother. It was only the beer I'd sampled before I left Ireland. It was in my uncle's home that I'd first tried wine and champagne and finer drinks but it had not been an enjoyable experience. I'd been put off much of it all until I'd been free and sailing the sea with Mick. I'd realised I'd connected bad memories with the tastes of those drinks and once I let go of them, I could enjoy wine a little more freely. Tea though, tea was not something I was very fond of. I'd come to terms though with the fact that I'd probably drink it by the gallon load when staying with the Swanns. Mary was always making it and Elizabeth was always drinking it. I drained my cup which wasn't such a task owing to the fact that it had been overly sweetened and watched as Gillette divested of all of his burdens.

My eyes were drawn immediately to the leather case that I knew held the map that James and I had discovered in the cave at _The Tideless Haven_. I also had the sneaking suspicion that the other long and thin package he carried held the sword. I felt myself come back to my senses a little at the arrival of the objects that served to prove the last few months as wholly real. I felt like they galvanised me a little, brought me back to why we'd come to Port Royal in the first place and what we hoped to accomplish. If there was a way to make Beckett account for the deaths of my friends and the sinking of _The Grace_ , I was certain James would find it and I was willing to offer any help I could. It was becoming clear to me that Beckett was not just a hurdle I had to overcome. He was trying to oust governor Swann's authority in Port Royal, and to do so he'd have to meddle with James too. There was a web of schemes to be untangled and there would be no such thing as too many cooks in an attempt to do so.

Mary told me later that I still looked a little out of sorts when she finally quit the room and watched us all from the doorway. "Come now Mary, let's leave the young people to their intrigues!" Governor Swann ushered her away and she went back to her work. She was oblivious to what had spooked me so, but she was sure in her mind that she'd seen real fear upon my face in those seconds. It bothered her all afternoon that something had frightened me so, and that I still didn't feel safe even within the secure confines of the most protected home on the whole island. She went about her work in the kitchen, all the while planning out what she might say to Elizabeth on the subject later that evening when the two were alone together. She appreciated her employers a great deal and worried over Elizabeth especially. If I was worried, then perhaps there was some threat to the Swanns that she was not yet aware of. She felt that the household staff did have a right to know as they were the ones who greeted all visitors and stepped out of doors at all hours. They could be on their guard for anything untoward or suspicious if only they were informed of what to look out for.

She swept through the house, looking through each window as she went about her work to observe the goings on outside. There were marines dotted all along the perimeter boundary of the Swann's gardens and there were more stationed closer to the house. It was evident to Mary then that something untoward was happening. Such military presence could only mean that James was also erring on the side of caution where safety was concerned. Mary abandoned the items she had been planning to put away in a linen cupboard upstairs and returned to the kitchen, hoping to round up some of the staff. It was the younger members of the household she grouped together first as they were the ones that still walked into town to get some air or to fetch supplies. They were the ones who needed to be on their guard. But how to warn them when she did not know what was going on herself? In the end Mary says she simply settled for the truth. She told her friends that something was afoot and only to walk down into the town if necessary until she could find out more. I've always admired Mary's rational and quick thinking mind as well as her kindness. If there was ever a thought in her head that one of the staff might betray anyone else in the house, she seemed to overcome it quickly. She had worked alongside everyone for so long and knew how happy they all were in employ of good people like the Swanns. They had all heard the stories of other household staff who were not so fortunate. English or Jamaican alike, they all had a duty to stand alongside the house's owners and guests in times of trouble and they would. She began to put plans in place to speak with the respective groups throughout the afternoon, hoping that eventually she'd encourage one of the footmen or even governor Swann's manservant himself to speak with the master of the house. They were amongst the closest to the governor amongst the staff. She would speak with Elizabeth herself.

Before long we were all sat around the table whilst Elizabeth and Will took stock of the map and the sword. It felt strange watching other people see them for the first time. The sword was of course startling both because of it's beauty and for that strange touch of almost magic that it had about it. Even though it was held by Will who sat across from me, I could still hear it singing to me, calling in that unique way. It was unnerving. The map was cast aside quite quickly in favour of the sword so I pulled it towards me, turning up a corner so that I could read Mick's handwriting there. I'd almost forgotten the fact that I'd seen the map in a dream of my own a long time before I'd laid my eyes on the real thing. You'll have to forgive my overactive imagination but I'm Irish and I was bread that way. There were so many possibilities as to how that dream might have come about and none of them were rational. Of course the first and most credible one that had sprung to mind was that Mick could be sending me subliminal messages from beyond the grave; or from the sea depths to be exact. That in itself felt the most logical explanation I'd thought of so far. I was more than aware that _The Tideless Haven_ bore some connection with the sea as a mythical being, so it served as almost understandable that a spirit who had passed on might be able to send messages to the living through such a place. So I believe in spirits, or at least I'm open to interpretation. It's both a blessing and a curse. I think it was mainly a curse because it set me apart from James straight away. He would never consider my theories as anything other than nonsense. I thought that If any spirit ever did come across him and attempt to communicate with him they'd likely get bored of trying to penetrate such a steadfast mind and move on to someone else. He wasn't narrow minded; that's not what I mean. He was just decided upon his views. Views can change though. I never in my life believed I'd be sitting so closely beside him and drinking in the smell of him whilst at the same time trying to fight off my affections for him. Perhaps his views could be changed too. It would all come down to trust in the beginning until he saw things for himself; or if he saw them. I was trying to reason with myself that it was foolish of me to ask him to continue trusting me even when I couldn't bring myself to offer him the same courtesy. It could not be helped though. Our lives were so decidedly different and our positions in society were so far removed from one another that it was only logical that I begin planning for my own future.

I turned the corner of the map down again and observed it again, this time scouring more than just the coastlines. I wanted so badly for there to be some evidence of a hidden message written in invisible ink that Mick had sent me. I needed that reassurance so badly that I was prepared to imagine the far fetched idea of Mick using lemon juice as invisible ink to send me some form of indication of what I should do. Of course, Mick was not so obtuse. He'd have written his message in good old fashioned ink and he'd have had the confidence that I'd see it and no one else. I traced my fingers over the islands that included _The Tideless Haven_ as if expecting my touch to ignite some form of hidden script there. I mean, after all that had happened I don't suppose I was really asking for a miracle now was I? Nothing happened though. I sighed heavily and sat back in the chair again, wondering why on earth the map had been sent to us in the first place if it had nothing new to show us. Granted, it had shown me in my dreams where to find the sword but not since we'd had the real thing before us had it been of any help whatsoever. There had to be something more to it and even I was willing to go out on a limb and chance at it perhaps being _The Crown of Immortality_. After all, there had been far too much hype about it and there was rarely smoke without fire. If both Jack Sparrow and James were willing to put their faith in it then it was strange that I'd not been willing to believe in it. After all, my upbringing meant that superstition was second hand to me. I was well versed in it and yet I'd never heard of the crown. That did not mean however, that it was not real. Before me lay a very real sword that had some unique kind of power as yet undiscovered. When I'd first learned the tale of Perseus as a child I had never in my wildest dreams thought I'd discover a sword that resembled so closely the one he'd used to kill sea monsters with. Wasn't that what James had done with that sword that morning on deck when the kelpie attacked me? Things had been slotting into place long before we'd arrived in Port Royal but I felt like I was at a cross roads. I couldn't go on saying I believed in the sword but not in the crown. Just because one of those objects had not been found didn't mean it wasn't out there somewhere. I was willing to bet that it would take someone as tenacious as James to find it.

There was yet again a conversation going on around me that I was oblivious to. I zoned in as James was recounting the tale of how we had come across the sword. Elizabeth and Will were passing it between them as they drank in every inch of the magnificent sword. Gillette too seemed transfixed by it and he had seen it before. "But what on earth could it be?" Elizabeth mused as the burnished gold slid through her fingers.

"I do recall that Miss O'Connell had a theory," Gillette recounted as he took the offered sword from Elizabeth and presented it to me.

I hesitated even as my hands reached out to take it from him. My theory was just that; a theory. I was sure there were many other stories that told of great swords. It struck me that Elizabeth might know of a fair few more than I did. She was so well read and so curious that it seemed only plausible. I didn't really like the idea of her being more right than me though. It had little to do with proving myself really. It was more that the sword and the map connected James and I on a deeper level. We'd found them both, and we'd discussed the possibilities of what they might be together. All of that might be rendered inconsequential if Elizabeth had a much better theory. Perhaps James would forget all about the help I'd given him or how bonded we'd become since we'd found the treasures.

I shrugged even as Elizabeth caught my eye as if nudging me to speak. I wonder sometimes if she knew what was on my mind in those moments. She was not one to let someone else speak when she had thoughts to voice but she was offering me the floor. "I thought maybe...Perseus's sword...from the old Greek tales. Perseus slayed sea monsters with his sword, a feat no other weapon managed. I just thought it seemed to fit given what happened on deck that morning. I'm sure there are many other plausible theories though. It was just a suggestion."

Of course I wasn't about to tell them that I was pretty sure it was Perseus's sword I held in my hands. My dreams had told me as much, and is it odd if I say that I feel like the sword was telling me it too? As I held it in my hands I felt that unmistakable warmth that resided within it. My hands had been cold before, not even warmed by the cup of tea I'd held and now it was as if they were being warmed before a roaring fire. I could still hear it. It was a weird but unique humming sound that seemed to emanate from it as if the metal was singing.

"The only suggestion we have aired so far," James said. "And a fair and plausible one too. I think perhaps it is the best fit altogether."

He offered me the slightest of smiles and I reached out to hand him the sword, his fingers just grazing the hilt before I heard it. _"...The sword is key..."_ It was such a strange and unearthly sound that felt as if it was floating above us in the air, or billowing in through the open french doors from the garden. Yet it was as if it had been whispered right next to my ear. _Andromeda_.

I gasped in reaction to the coarse whisper, scrambling to keep hold of the sword in the process. James too had turned to glance about him as if searching for the disembodied voice and I realised I was not the only one to have heard it. We both took a firmer grip of the sword on instinct, glancing at each other apprehensively. "What was that?"

"Sorry...but what was what?" Elizabeth queried from across the table. James and I glanced around at our three friends, seeing the bewilderment on their faces. "You didn't hear it?" I asked them all, my eyes landing upon each one in turn and finding no flicker of concealment. They were all shaking their heads, turning to look about them as if the answer to why James and I had reacted so would somehow present itself to us all. "Maybe we're hearing things. Perhaps it was just an animal in the garden or something?"

I no more believed that than I believed my uncle could repent and become a decent man one day. I simply wanted to gauge James's reaction. He turned to look at me incredulously. "That was no animal. That was a voice."

"Hearing voices? Sure isn't that the first sign of madness commodore?" I asked jovially, my attempt at humour falling on deaf ears as he gazed at me with disbelief still in his eyes. "We know I already am given that I'm Irish but perhaps we both are." I felt somehow buoyed by the fact that James had heard the voice too, that I was not alone. The reality is it should have confused and worried me that we were hearing such things but it instilled some strange sort of hope within me. I don't know why it was hope I felt when I was to leave him soon. Even this deeper connection would be severed when I left them all. That was not a hopeful prospect to 'd been so preoccupied by the disembodied voice that it took a few more seconds for me to register that the sword was growing warmer in my hand. It was almost too warm to touch but I felt as if I could not pull my hands away, that the weapon belonged there despite the burning sensation. I glanced down at the sword, finding my breath catching in my throat at the beauty of it all, at our two hands clutching the blade tightly. It was no longer heavy in my hand and it was as if I was not even holding it any more. It was feather light, almost floating in the air before us both. I thought that Incredibly, the sun must must have come out from behind a cloud to reflect off it because the light that transcended the sword then was remarkable. It was like no other light I'd ever seen before. It shone brighter than a roaring fire, and it had the heat of one too.

"What? What is it?" Elizabeth cried.

"Can't you see this?" I exclaimed in reply, my eyes never leaving the sword.

"See what?" Will parried.

"The sword...it's..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I could find no word to describe what I was seeing and feeling. How could everyone else in the room not see what was happening when I myself was almost blinded by the light.

"It's glowing." It was James's voice that summed up the vision before us very succinctly and perhaps even indifferently because he was not one to mince his words but I heard the astonishment in his voice. He was experiencing it as I was. The glowing only stopped when I reluctantly let go of the blade and James was left holding it alone. Even then I still felt like there was something hanging in the air, some form of anticipation. There was still silence for a long time after that. I got the impression that the other three knew not what to think about what James and I had just admitted. I think James himself was the most confused of us all. Everything he had built his life and career on was firmly routed in conclusive reality. He believed only what he could see before his eyes. Up until recently, myths and legends of the old world and of the sea were just stories to him. It was only since he'd met me that he'd been confronted with the knowledge that there might be so much more to our world than the lives we led every day. I suspect it was a war in his mind. Everything he'd been taught as a child and as a young naval man moving through the ranks would be rendered moot if he chose to believe in the myths of the sea. There would be suddenly so much more to life than his career and of proving himself to Elizabeth Swann.

Eventually Gillette broke the silence by moving from the table to fetch another of the packages that he'd brought with him. This too was long and thin and I knew it was a map before he'd even set it upon the table. He untied the black ribbon that held it tightly scrolled and it began to lightly unfurl. I lifted my now empty tea cup and used it as a weight to weigh down the corner of the map at my end of the table. Before I'd even glimpsed all of it I was intrigued by the clearly very old map. It wasn't really what would be called a map though. This was an extremely detailed naval chart and old though it was I could tell that such a sense of care had been taken with the sketching of it. I itched to touch it but at the same time I was worried I'd damage it in some way. I settled for leaning closer to the table, my eyes roving over the intricate naval markings that were surely something James and Gillette understood. There were a few I knew, but some of the scribbles were indecipherable.

"This," announced James from beside me, "Is one of only four charts drawn up in 1588 to commemorate Sir Francis Drake's voyage of circumnavigation around the world. The other three are considered missing and perhaps destroyed. This one was considered to be also, until we raided Spanish vessels off the coast of Cuba and found it amongst other charts. How it came to be in the hands of the Spanish we do not yet know but I wrote to the King and made him aware of it's existence some months ago. The king was delighted by the discovery, it is said. I will certainly have his ear, should I have any new information to impart or to ask a favour."

At the mention of Francis Drake my head had spun around so that I could stare at James, my eyes wide with astonishment before I pressed my nose even closer to the chart and wondered if any of the markings there belonged to the man himself. It was unlikely but I knew that to be looking upon such a chart was a privilege indeed, especially for someone like myself. It was over a hundred years old and showed it, but it was still in a remarkable condition. Evidently the Spaniard who had stolen it had understood it's value and had kept it safe.

"This is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen in my life..." I mused quietly as I rose from my seat a little to observe the side of the chart that was further away from me. I'd forgotten everything else we'd been discussing in my need to drink all of the chart in.

"I thought you might appreciate it." I turned to glance back at James to find him smiling softly, a wistful far off look in his eyes as he gazed back at me.

I sat down again then, my eyes leaving his sharply for fear I'd get lost in them. "This should be under lock and key somewhere very safe. Why have you brought it here commodore?"

"There are a few important pieces of information that we must clear up Miss O'Connell, and to do so we need a chart before us. I thought I might indulge your fondness for maps and charts whilst you are here. I myself spent many an hour scouring this looking for new and undiscovered anomalies. Perhaps you will uncover something I have not yet noticed with that keen eye of yours."

There was something quite touching about his explanation, so much so that no one around the table thought to inform him that we already had a map that would do the job, or that governor Swann would likely have his own charts that would serve the same purpose. I stole a glance at Elizabeth and Will who were smiling strangely, as if they knew something we did not. I lowered my gaze once more before Elizabeth could catch my eye. I knew she'd have a fair few things to say about James's gesture that I did not want to hear. I knew not to read too much into anything he had done for me, because I thought he'd have done the same for anyone.

James cleared his throat then and I looked at him once more. He was apprehensive and nervous, as if the next topic of conversation was not a pleasant one. "Forgive me Miss O'Connell for the questions I am about to ask you. Unfortunately there are certain parts of your tale that we must be certain of before we can progress. We must create for ourselves a timeline within which we must prove that Cutler Beckett was indeed sailing the same waters as _The Grace_ on the day that she sank."

I swallowed heavily and nodded despite my fear of reliving such an experience. "You want to know whereabouts we were when the ship was attacked." My assumption was proved correct by James's curt nod. I began to lightly trace my fingers along the coastline of Italy, bringing my fingers to a stop where a neat cursive marked Naples. "We were trading in Naples, and set sail there two weeks before the attack." I drew an invisible line with my finger as I dragged it slowly along the southern coasts of Italy, France and Spain before my finger tip met open sea. "We were making very good speed. Maybe that lulled us into a false sense of security. We'd just sailed past Tangier the morning before the attack. I went to bed that morning after observing a calm night upon the seas. There was nothing in the air to suggest a storm of any sort might be about to come upon us, nothing at all. A few hours later Mick woke me to tell me we were in the midst of raging a storm." I shrugged then, suddenly reluctant to discuss the rest of that day's events. "You know the rest. I cannot speak for how far we'd sailed in those few hours that I was asleep for when I emerged onto deck there was nought to see but raging waves and sheets of rain all around us." I began to trace my fingers then over the Spanish main, calculating the speed in my mind. "We were averaging close to ten knots in the days beforehand..."

"Which is extremely good speed for a merchant ship," Gillette commented from his end of the table.

I nodded my agreement. "We had the wind behind us which helped." I jabbed my finger down onto the chart then, my decision made. "All considered, I'd say we'd sailed as far as here before... Well I can't imagine we'd have got much further. That storm might have buffeted us in any direction once we were in the midst of it though."

"Are you quite sure?" James asked from beside me. I threw him an incredulous glance. After everything I'd just calculated in my head and what I'd been able to show them on the chart, he was really going to question my reckonings? He had sensed my hostility towards such a line of questioning and hastened to explain himself. "Forgive me yet again Miss O'Connell, but I am a little confused-"

"As am I," Gillette interrupted candidly. "We met you in Tortuga Miss only a day later. How is any of that possible?"

"You were injured during the attack and when you came across us in Tortuga you had a roaring fever," James supplied calmly. "No one would think less of you if the exact details had become a little muddled. Perhaps it was not two weeks but three or four? We all know how one day can blend into another upon the sea and it's relatively easy to lose track of days. This is why this conversation is necessary. We may not be able to ascertain a definite point of attack but a general indication would indeed help us a great deal in developing a case against Beckett." His own hands moved then, his wrist resting on top of mine as he reached across to point a finger at Tortuga on the chart. "You must understand our confusion Miss O'Connell even if you do not accept it. You see, you are saying that you somehow travelled all of that distance without any aid whatsoever in just one day to wash up in Tortuga. It is nigh on impossible."

I could feel my anger bubbling just below the surface. I did not want to lose my temper with James, but his suggestions were trying my patience very much so. "A fever and a hole in my shoulder does not mean I was unable to keep a clear head! I do not know how it came to happen but happen it did. I'm no witch and I didn't sprout wings and fly onto that beach in Tortuga! I was not plucked from the sea by another ship either! I have no idea how it came to be but I am still certain of all of the facts! Think I'm mad if you like but I know what's right."

Perhaps they could all sense my irritation at being questioned so. Elizabeth and Will were watching the discussion with avid attention and James and Gillette appeared rebuffed by my outburst. They both sat back a little in their chairs and waited, as if expecting me to carry on. I felt a little foolish only because Elizabeth was in the room. I didn't want her laughing at me. "It's easily confirmed really," Gillette commented drily. When James nodded his agreement Gillette brought forward another package. From a leather satchel he removed a large leather bound journal that I had no trouble at all in recognising. From the worn and wrinkled pages to the cracked spine, it was as known to me as _The Grace_ had been.

* * *

 _ **I just thought I'd add a little note here about the map I've mentioned. I've no idea if Francis Drake ever did commission fancy naval charts to commemorate his circumnavigation of the globe, but there were medals made. You can look one up on the British museum site. I read about them in a book years ago and when trying to think of a nice gesture James would want to do for Fiona, I immediately thought it would be something to do with navigation. She's not really a flowers and chocolate type is she? I thought the medal though would be too small a thing for this scene so I took some poetic license.**_

 _ **In the next chapter, we've got quite the chat between James and Fiona, and Fiona appears to have made up her mind on a few things...**_


	47. Chapter Forty Seven - Dreams of a Life

_**Thank you to the two guests for the thought provoking reviews. Whilst I liked Mary and wanted her to be a sort of mother figure to Fiona I'd not thought of taking her much further in the story but as you like her so much I will think of what I might be able to do with her. She will remain a motherly figure though because I do not think Fiona would ever let Elizabeth mother her! Fiona's quite sure of herself but there is insecurity with James on a deep level. She doesn't think she's good enough for someone like him. it's something that will be explored very soon! Their pairing won't fizzle out though, it's just taking it's time. Things will begin to develop a little more quickly in the coming chapters though!**_

 _ **In this chapter, Fiona and James fail to read each other's mixed signals.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Forty Seven - Dreams of a Life**_

"Where on earth did you get that?" I exclaimed, annoyance creeping into my tone again.

"We took it from _The Grace_ Miss." I wanted to jump up out of my seat and snatch the book from Gillette's hands but James's presence made me think twice about such an action.

I stared at the book, wondering why both men had failed to mention that they had it in their possession. "We took all of Captain O'Malley's log books that he had aboard _The Grace_ ," James confirmed as he took the log from Gillette into his own hands. "With the exception of a few, it appears we have a complete timeline from when he began his first journey aboard _The Grace_. He has well documented his logs and we can only be grateful for that. James began to flip through the pages of the log until he found the date he was looking for; the beginning of June. He placed the book flat on the table between us both and pointed to the well documented last log that Mick had ever made.

"Why did you just ask me all about locations if you had this to tell you what you needed to know?" I asked James quietly. Perhaps he heard the hurt in my voice. I certainly was beginning to feel like they might have been poking fun at me a little.

He grimaced slightly as if he knew that I'd question his methods. "A log book is all well and good," James said. "Your word though in corroboration with the written account Miss O'Connell cements the events as fact. The log book in no way explains the unique and impossible explanation you have given for how you found yourself in Tortuga after the sinking of _The Grace_ but it certainly leaves little cause for doubt. It is the kind of confirmation that we needed." He pushed the log book towards me along the table then. "The last log describes the distance _The Grace_ covered since departing Naples and matches the timeline you have given us exactly. It also assures me that you had your head about you. I never was in any doubt that the tale you told me was all truth, but this all serves as proof to others. You gave me a description of the man who you witnessed in the midst of that storm, the man who killed your friend. That man was Cutler Beckett. I knew all of this months ago. The fact that you were obviously thinking clearly and acting quickly will only help our case."

"So you were testing me?" I think I still must have sounded far from pleased if I'm honest. "Even with all that you say commodore, how on earth is my account going to stand against the word of a man like Beckett?"

"I think there are many more people who would be inclined to believe your word than you would ever consider," Elizabeth spoke for the first time in a while. "You speak well and concisely Fiona. Granted, there is anger and animosity there sometimes, but that is understandable considering the events that occurred that day. You lost your friends. All that has come to pass since then must be taken into account, even the simplest of inconveniences..." Here she threw a rather sharp and pointed glance at James. "Your passionate outbursts only prove your strength. I think perhaps you need to begin to change the way you think about yourself. If you will not consider yourself as a person worthy of justice, then no one else will. You must exude that confidence that you currently lack. That is all you need, and I think no one will question you."

"I want justice for my friends, not for me," I added softly as I shook my head.

James's hand was resting upon my shoulder again then, lightly providing pressure that was perhaps intended as some kind of warning. "You yourself were shot Miss O'Connell. Do not forget that. If it were not for the careful care of your wound undertaken by a pirate of all people, you may have fared far worse. Do not think that it went unnoticed that the lady pirate tended your wounds repeatedly. Add to that all that you have endured since then, namely being ensconced aboard a navy ship where for the first weeks of your stay you were perhaps not offered the level of respect that you were due. Grief dealt you a terrible blow and my hostility only added to your ordeal. Together with all else that has passed...I think you are more than entitled to seek justice for yourself. Perhaps you should start believing you are worthy of it." Looking back now, I can imagine how much it must have taken James to admit his treatment of me in the beginning was not the best, especially in company. At the time though my mind had snagged on the fact that he'd paid Anamaria an underhand compliment.

"You may not even have to speak out," Gillette supplied then as if pleased to voice the information he'd been keeping quiet throughout the whole conversation. "Not if things go as planned."

"How do you mean?" Will asked, his interest piqued.

swiftly I was reminded that this wasn't just about the deaths of my friends or my own ordeal. Everyone around this table was at risk of Beckett's schemes. It was James who answered Will's Question. "Perhaps you have not been made aware, Mr. and Mrs. Turner but Lord Beckett is due to attend the annual governor's ball in five days time. Of course you have all been a little preoccupied here but the ball always does go ahead, whether your father attends or not. Beckett will attend in his place this year, given the house arrest you are all currently languishing under. He will be required there for a certain amount of time, which I believe leaves a narrow window within which the house that he currently occupies and his office at Fort Charles must be searched. I spent last night making a note of all trustworthy men on this island. Instruction has already been given for these men to position themselves (duty allowing) between these two locations. They will be thoroughly searched. I am inclined to think that Beckett will have his own documentation of the day in question."

Although I appreciated James's thinking, I wasn't so sure all of this planning was worth it. "Strikes me that he sounds too clever to leave such a trail behind to be found, commodore."

"Ah, but even falsified ship's logs can be deciphered if you know where to look," James added confidently. "Cutler Beckett whilst a shrewd fellow is not a naval man. His captain may have been, but he will not have done a good enough job I wager to entirely cover their tracks. Their mistakes will be found out. Men who are fuelled by greed are not as meticulous and as methodical as they think they are."

"That still leaves the dilemma that he may decide to investigate Townshend's death though," I countered.

"I've already voiced my opinions on such matters Miss O'Connell. There is no proof to be found that could aid Beckett in that case. He will be informed that Townshend refused to surrender to His Majesty's Royal Navy and initiated attack. Aboard _The Surgence_ we were forced to retaliate. Your name will not need mentioning."

"What if he picks holes in your story though?" I pressed him. "I've already told you that I don't want lies being told to hide my part in it all. I don't want anyone facing trouble because of me!"

James sighed exasperatedly but it was Will who spoke first. "Miss, you have to understand that what commodore Norrington says is in fact true. Townshend did resist requests to surrender. He did launch an attack upon a navy ship. Given that his ship rests on the ocean bed there will never be any way to prove which ship fired the first cannon. There is no reason for Commodore Norrington's word to be disbelieved."

"This man Beckett isn't going to go down without a fight though," I added worriedly.

"That is why this chart is key." James nodded to the old chart still resting on the table surface. "I said earlier, that I now have the king's ear. I found this map so what else might I find if given the chance. Although I am not inclined to pass the information on about finding that sword, if need be I can inform the king of it. The king will not be pleased by Beckett's behaviour. Governor Swann is in fact the king's representative on this island. The ousting of the king's authority under Beckett's command will not go down well. I'd say we stand a very good chance of being able to dust all of this under the carpet. I have secured an audience with Lord Beckett. He will interview myself and my officers with regards to the Townshend investigation and will find nothing. The only thing that does indeed cause me a little worry is that Mr. Hawkins did not find himself on his way back to England yesterday. There was a ship due to leave port but he managed to evade the men I had entrusted to watch him. It is no fault of theirs. Hawkins is a slippery fellow."

"Oh I think he's likely off following that map you gave him Miss," Will said when I looked a little startled. "Indeed I think we need to worry more about what he might find on his treasure hunt. He's more interested in what he can find for himself than meddling with the affairs of others from what I saw. He won't want to tangle with the likes of Beckett for fear his own crimes are discovered."

"I agree," I said with more courage than I felt. Will had a fair measure of Hawkins despite not spending that much time with him. I thought the same. Hawkins wanted gold and treasure. That was how he wanted to build his fortune. Involving himself in the affairs of The East India Company and the navy would certainly hold up his travels and his attempts at bettering his fortune. "In that case then there's no need to worry about Hawkins and his map at all," I said, suddenly finding humour in imagining Hawkins following a faulty map.

"And why would that be?" James was watching me curiously. I shrugged and offered up no answer. He sighed again. "You gave him the wrong map, didn't you?"

I smiled a little as I met his eyes. I did not know whether he was pleased at my quick thinking or shocked that I'd send a man off on a potential wild goose chase. "I might have altered the coastline slightly in my sketch I gave to Hawkins," I confirmed sheepishly. "I do not feel guilty about it. Hawkins was ready to throw me to the wolves to earn a few coins. Perhaps it's time he learnt not to mess with decent people. Granted, I suppose what I did wasn't decent. He might get terribly lost."

Gillette grinned at me then. "I think it's a brilliant idea. If he's off chasing the wrong coast he isn't here causing trouble. He'd sell us all out to find himself in favour. Who knows, he might actually find something worthwhile without realising it. That might keep your uncle's eye trained elsewhere Miss."

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over me. I'd not realised how I was enjoying our little scheming session tucked away in Elizabeth's salon. I'd managed to push my uncle from my mind for a short while. I was swiftly brought back to why I was there in the first place, because I'd ran from my uncle's home in London all those years ago. The conversation carried on around me once more whilst I lost myself in my thoughts. Even if we managed to get through all of this unscathed, I still faced the dilemma of a life hiding from the man who'd taken everything from me. I can't tell you how quickly that depression enveloped me again. Thoughts of my uncle served to dampen my mood so much that didn't realise that Elizabeth had called for tea again and Mary had returned to the room. The others around the table must have decided upon a break in proceedings and Will and Gillette were having an avid conversation whilst Elizabeth had left the table to help Mary with the tea things. Finally bringing myself back into the room a little, I spotted James standing just inside the french doors, his eyes trained upon me. Apparently my little daydream had not gone entirely unnoticed. He jerked his head in the direction of the gardens beyond the house, his eyes willing me to follow him for a few seconds before he stepped out of doors.

I think we all know that I got up and followed him. I did it slowly, aware that Elizabeth needed no reason whatsoever to overthink things. I stepped out into the warm sunlight, suddenly aware that James had skirted around the side of the house towards the gardens that I had explored earlier with Elizabeth. I followed in his wake, eventually rounding the corner myself. I glanced sideways, glimpsing the closed french doors of the breakfast parlour which now lay empty, the table already laid for the next morning's meal. I turned away from the house, following James's tall frame as he skirted around the shrubbery towards where I'd sat with Elizabeth that morning. I had thought he might stop there at the stone benches which would have been a pleasant spot to stop and talk but he carried on, winding through the maze of trees and shrubbery until I realised I'd not yet ventured that far into the garden. I glanced up, aware we were coming closer to the side of the hill that rose even further above the house. Densely populated with trees, it did not appear to me to be somewhere you'd take a leisurely afternoon stroll on a whim. Like much of Ireland's expansive green county, it would certainly be easy to find yourself lost in such a spot. I realised that I'd lost sight of James within the trees but I kept moving, sure that I could not be far from the perimeter of the Swann's land. Eventually I glimpsed a pretty sun dappled clearing through the trees and moved towards it. The sound of running water was what drew me to it. I stepped away from the tree line, watching the ebb and flow of the water as it gushed down from rocks a little way up the hill. Everything around us had seemed so tranquil and still that I'd not thought to find such ferocious force in the water of the stream. It was a moment or two of simple admiration before I realised James stood a few feet downhill from me atop a stepping stone in the middle of the stream. He was waiting for me, his hand held out to help me across.

Let me tell you that I saw all that was not quite right about the scenario. What can I say, I thought myself a bit of a rebel. I didn't really want to care about what others thought. Alone and unchaperoned in such a place, anything might have taken place between us both. I didn't want it to because I was focusing on wedging a gap between my rational mind and my feelings for James. I knew that we should not have left the house. There was still much to be discussed and here he was dragging me out to admire the scenery. I also thought it funny that he was stood in such a way, his offer of help a completely unnecessary one. The stream was perhaps knee height in depth. I would never have used the stepping stones to cross it. I'd have tied up the skirts of my dress and waded in to the cool water. Yet he expected me to be a lady about things. I almost wanted to knock his hand away when I reached him. I didn't though because I understood what went unsaid in such a gesture. This was about so much more than crossing a stream. So I let him help me. I placed my hand in his outstretched one and he guided me needlessly across the stones until passed in front of him. He did not relinquish his hold of my hand until both of my feet were firmly upon the other side of the stream. There on that bank seemed to be where he had intended us both to stop.

"Elizabeth did not show me this stream this morning," I supplied by way of a start to the conversation.

"I recall that she regards this particular spot as a place of quiet contemplation," James replied rather stiffly. "That is likely why."

"I'm not afraid of a few splashes of water, you know," I said with a jerk of my head backwards towards the stream.

"I am aware." James's ridged stance with his hands clasped behind his back did nothing to ease my growing apprehension. He seemed to be struggling with his thoughts. I know what I'm like once start talking. I thought I might confuse things a little more so I decided to stay quiet until he had said what he needed to. "I was glad to find you well, excepting your moment on the stairs. I hope I will not cause offence when I say that you did look rather worn out last night. You look a little better, but I'm inclined to say that in your eyes I see a tiredness that speaks of a restless night. I would not have you worrying, Miss O'Connell-"

"Would you stop calling me that? This isn't some romance novel of Elizabeth's! She's calling me by my first name! Why can't you?" I was very aware I'd offered Elizabeth the same respect since I'd come to meet her. I'd not placed James's ownership upon her either in the whole course of the morning. I suppose in meeting and conversing with the young woman I had come to terms with the fact that she was entirely her own person. She never was and never would be _James's Miss Swann_ or _his Mrs Turner._ "Sorry," I mumbled then quickly. "It's a silly thing to pick at. It's just that I'm no Miss. I'm not a fine lady. I wanted to wade through the stream and splash about like a child more than I wanted you to hand me over it. I'm not pretending to be anything I'm not; or at least I think I'm not. Please don't confuse matters. I don't want to be elevated to a station not my own. I'm happy as I am."

I'd finished speaking a little more softly than I'd started in an attempt to soften the blow. James nodded. "It is something I have come to admire about you. I will speak candidly with you then, for you deserve as much. Miss-" I rolled my eyes in annoyance. "Fiona, you are aware I'm sure that I have all my life lived by a very ridged set of ideals. I conformed to the religion spoken of in church. I believed that spirits and myths were the dreams and imaginings of the poor. That is what I was taught. I understood it to be a way for those less well off to banish the dreary and dark realities of their harsh lives. When I joined the navy I further banished such notions from my mind. Rationale was required in all aspects of my career. I've told you before but no naval crew would follow a commander who has dizzying daydreams about sea monsters and Greek legends. No, I would be a laughing stock."

"And yet you're faced with the knowledge that all of that might be lies; that there are strange and wonderful things going on that you cannot explain?"

James appeared relieved that I understood what he was trying to say. "That sword..." He could apparently find no words to describe what we had both experienced, and I wasn't about to make myself look even more crazy by telling him I'd been dreaming about that same sword for months. "I hope you can forgive me if it takes a little time for me to come to terms with all that has passed. I believe every word you say, and yet I still cannot fathom how you managed to travel so far alone in the water. Any attempt to swim must have been hampered by your injury, and yet you survived. It is rather an odd tale you have told."

"How do you think I feel?" I exclaimed. "I was the one who lived through it. Or rather, slept through it. I must have lost consciousness after the attack on _The Grace_. I don't remember going into the water. I woke on that beach in Tortuga and had no idea what had happened. I do want to find out, but something tells me I never might. I can't ask you to believe me. If you do... then that's great but I could understand if you were having some trouble with it."

He was shaking his head lightly. "You never do ask for anything do you? Even after all you have endured? You do not even ask for time."

We were back on that subject again, and I desperately wanted to return to the house in that moment. I didn't want to tell him the truth. It would be final then. It would really be happening. I would really be leaving him. "We have no time commodore. At least, I certainly don't. I understand that you might have need of me here in regards to Beckett. Do you not think it might look better through the eyes of an outsider if I was not here. People are going to get the wrong idea. I don't want you to face trouble over me. If Beckett does have something on me, you'd be better off distancing yourself entirely. If I leave, you could even deny all knowledge of me."

"Do you really think I would do that?" James asked me quickly. "Do you really think I would permit you to embark upon such a journey alone?"

"I'm not your responsibility," I countered.

"Miss Fiona, this is not about responsibility. This is about doing what is right. You surely understand that. You live your life by doing what is right. Your good sense and heart is something that is clear to anyone who meets you. We are friends are we not; you and I? I wish to see you safely to wherever it is you wish to go. You must wait at least, until all of this with Beckett is dealt with. The business with Townshend will come to nothing so you have little to worry about on that count. Once I have seen Beckett off this island and back to England to face disciplinary action then I shall be free and at your service. I told you before that I would sail you to a port of your choosing and I meant it. Allow me the chance to put things right here and then I shall escort you home to Ireland myself. It is the least I can do."

"It's very nice of you to make such an offer commodore. I do appreciate it. I'm not meaning to sound ungrateful. I just think I'm going to cause a lot more trouble here. Elizabeth has been very kind. I don't wish to cause trouble for her family. She was even so kind as to ask me to stay. I think she is lonely. Who can blame her. Although the house and these gardens are beautiful I know I'd get bored very easily. I can see why she's restless. She wants to see the world. At least I've been given that chance. I've seen some wonderful places."

"Perhaps staying is not such an awful notion, is it? We would still see one another."

I felt nauseous suddenly. It was far worse than any sea sickness I'd ever experienced. Did he really not know why I could not stay? I was no better than any of the staff who served the Swanns so I would certainly not stay as a guest. Even if I found good and honest work I'd be forced to watch James coming and going from the island, living a life upon the sea that was all I had left in the world to cling to. Although his imaginings of our continuing friendship seemed a touching thing, I saw the reality. He'd get his promotion one way or another and then he would marry. I'd have to stay here, watching him go out to sea and not knowing whether he'd return alive or not, all the while accommodating his new pretty wife and potential children as they lived out their wonderful life in Port Royal, waiting for him to return. When he did return, it would be even worse watching them all together. How was I to live like that, having my heart shattered into a thousand pieces every day? No, I did not think I had it within me to cope with all of that. It was my own fault really, for falling in love with a man who was so much better than me.

No matter how I tried to force the tears back, they came eventually, rolling down my reddening cheeks as I swiped at them furiously. James was entirely dumbfounded by them. He did not know what to say or do. "Is the idea of staying a little longer really so abhorrent to you?" he pressed.

I turned on my heel, unable to look into those emerald green eyes that still held such promise in them. "I can't do this any more!" I wailed as I took off across the stepping stones, almost slipping more than once as my sight was blinded by tears. I twisted my knee as I went but I ignored the pain. It was almost like welcoming an old friend back. It assured me that even though I my heart was breaking, I could still feel other pain. I was still alive. I raced away from him then, not wanting him to catch up to me with his long strides. I kept running until I reached the house again. I tore through the salon where the other three young people sat and ignored Elizabeth as she called to me. I took the stairs two at a time and found myself in the sanctuary of the little library that Elizabeth called her own. I slammed the door behind me and slid down onto the floor. I expected to feel the vibrations of a hurried knock upon the door against my back but none came. Everyone had left me alone. All I felt were the retching sobs that shook me as I continued to cry. I had finally realised that there would be no more adventures for me. More painful was the fact that there would be no more James. I could not do as he asked. I could not wait around to watch Beckett torn down. I would only get in the way. I would be used to bring down all of those who had been so kind to me. I would wait until James had been interviewed by Beckett regarding Townshend. If there was to be a real investigation and Beckett had evidence that could harm James in any way, I'd step forward and admit my guilt. If it all came to nothing, then I had enough gold to buy passage elsewhere. I would have to make my own path. It was such a daunting prospect, but I had no other choice.

It was made all the more difficult by those visions I'd seen earlier when I was standing at the top of the stairs. They'd shown me what I wanted more than anything in the world and yet it was the one thing I could never have. They were dreams of a life not destined for me. I had no notion of deserving such a life. Perhaps it was more of a warning than a vision of the future. My mind could have been telling me I was in far too deep. It was time to break my own heart before someone else broke it for me.

Elizabeth watched my skirts vanish around the corner from where she stood below in the atrium. James reached her shortly after, and he says he was surprised that she did not admonish him for upsetting me. I don't think he gave her enough credit. Elizabeth had seen between myself and James what we perhaps might never have seen for ourselves. She understood therefore that it took very little to cause one of us some upset. I am surprised myself that she did not admonish him. James was oblivious to what it was all really about back then. He did not recognise his own feelings for what they were. That was why it was so easy for him to put my outburst down to exhaustion and distress.

"I like her, James." Elizabeth's quiet statement in the stillness of the atrium took him by surprise. "I will not feel sorry for her because I think that she might be offended by that. She's too strong to admit when things are not quite alright. I do not envy her the stress she is under. I think she feels quite alone. She has no idea what her life is now. She needs time. She needed time after her friends were killed. I stand by what I said. If you'd brought her straight here she would have endured far less."

James sighed heavily, deciding to ignore Elizabeth's criticism of his actions. "Time is one thing that our little friend believes she does not have. I have tried to reason with her and to be quite honest I'm not sure what it is that's holding her back. She mentioned you'd asked her to stay. That is quite a good idea, but I would not force her to do so if it is not her wish also. I just cannot imagine what it is that would drive her to wish to leave here at the earliest opportunity. She is safe here."

Elizabeth turned to look at him then, as if trying to ascertain just how clueless he really was about my feelings. "Is she really safe, James? Some might beg to differ. You both have a lot on your minds. You should return home and prepare for your interview with Lord Beckett. I shall see to Fiona. Do not worry for her. By the way, I do not think that anything happened between her and Townshend, you will be glad to know. I asked her in a roundabout way. She's more concerned with the fact that she took a man's life than anything else. She feels guilty. I suspect if he had harmed her in any way, she might feel her actions were more justified."

James took her arm then in a firm grip. "Elizabeth if she hadn't killed him...if he had overpowered her then it would have happened. Then he would have killed her. I am glad that she killed him."

Elizabeth nodded slowly, slightly taken aback by James's sudden passion. "Then let us be glad that it did not happen. She has enough to worry over. She's strong though. A few days of rest and a few long talks with me and I'll have her remembering the tough young woman she really is. Don't fret over it. Go home James."

"I'm going to speak with your father before I do. I shall prepare for my interview with him. He shall no doubt have sound advice for me."

I don't know how long I cried for, but I eventually managed to pull myself onto the couch where I pulled my chosen book before me. It served as a comfort and a distraction to read the first few stories of the book before eventually sleep claimed me. When I woke a few hours later, the book was no longer in my hands and I was covered by a thick blanket. My first thought was that Elizabeth had found me. The book rested on the arm of the chair, a piece of parchment marking my place in the book. I sat up a little and the blanket pooled at my waist. Almost immediately I became aware of something at my feet that I'd kicked in my movement. I didn't catch them before they fell, but when I stared down at the objects on the floor I felt a strange sense of foreboding. James had been the one to find me. He'd seen what I'd been reading. He'd left me Mick's log book and the map case, but even more curious was the presence of the other chart that may have belonged to Francis Drake himself. I reached out to touch it before I realised that there was a page of folded fresh parchment beneath the items. I pulled it free and opened it slowly, to see one line of James's elegant cursive there.

 _For your safe keeping._

The fact that he'd left the items with me said a lot about his trust of me, but also that he wanted me to stay. He was enticing me to do so with said items. I found I could not be irritated by the notion. He meant well. I just had to try not to read too much into such things because my mind was still made up. I won't deny it. It did make me begin to reconsider leaving so abruptly once affairs were in order, if only because I did not want to leave him again.

* * *

 _ **It feels like it might be the end of their relationship, but it most definitely isn't. Things will become clearer within the next lot of chapters! In the very next one, we have the long awaited meeting between James and Beckett. How do you think it will go? Will James manage to keep it together?**_


	48. Chapter Forty Eight - A Pirate in Love

**_So here we have it, the long awaited confrontation between James and Beckett! Let me know what you think!_**

* * *

 _ **Chapter Forty Eight - A Pirate in Love**_

A harsher wind than normal rattled the glass in the window panes all night. The sea was churning beyond the town and the docks, keeping worry in the minds of the fishermen and sailors who voyaged out onto the quelling beast each day. They were not the only ones who lay awake that night, long after the candlelight had dimmed and productive work and thought had escaped them. James lay awake too. I think the wind barrelling brazenly between buildings and overturning untethered carts was so much more of an annoyance to him because he had many other worries upon his mind that evening. He had spent the last few days ensconced within his own office at home trying to plan out the story with which he hoped to deceive Lord Beckett. Ever the methodical naval man, he had carved out a rough transcript of how he wished the conversation to go and had copied it out again, tweaking parts until he thought he had the fundamental points well hashed out. Of course he hadn't really considered that this would be no normal interview. It was Gillette I believe who raised the first objection to James's well planned soliloquy. Of course Beckett was going to ask odd questions and bombard James with interruptions. He would do it simply to please himself in the first instance before he further attempted to tear apart James's story. He wanted command of Port Royal; later Jamaica and the Spanish Main. I am glad Gillette thought to challenge James's rigid plan. He was too rehearsed I think and unprepared for the twists and turns that a natural conversation may take.

It is a mark of how determined James was to ensure that Beckett knew as little of my own tale as possible that he worried and fretted so much in the days before the meeting. Finally, in the late evening hours Gillette had assured James there was little else he could do to hone and perfect his version of events that he wished to present to Beckett. Gillette left shortly afterwards in the hopes that James would retire to bed himself and invest in an early night. He tried, I suppose. Sleep evaded him for the longest time and it had little to do with the racket that the wind was making outside. No, even in silence I think he'd have had trouble calming his mind. I feel sorry for him, knowing he was awake and fretting so much about the impending interview when I had managed to sleep soundly through the disturbing weather. It was the first decent night's sleep I'd had since I'd arrived in Port Royal. Perhaps I was simply too exhausted by the worry of it all and rather resigned to my fate at the same time. Perhaps I was simply comforted by the turbulent weather that so reminded me of home. James had promised to return to the Swann's home after his meeting with Beckett to let us all know how he had fared. Either way I knew I was going to be leaving shortly after. Either I'd walk into Beckett's hands to save James's career or I'd be boarding a ship to save my own sanity.

James dressed early after only a few hours of restless sleep and made his way into his office. Instead of heading straight for his desk and his transcript he stood before the window that looked out over the town that lay just before his home. It was a cloudy and overcast day outside. There was still a strong breeze that billowed and buffeted the overgrown garden that surrounded the house. James still had not had time to arrange for a gardener to start work there. His mind had not been upon such things. Once his interview was over, he resolved to make such arrangements. After all, the neglected garden was rather at war with the reflection of himself that he caught a glimpse of in the window. He was dressed in his finest uniform, his wig and hat firmly in place already despite the early hour. His officers had visited Fort Charles on many occasions in the last few days to ascertain if the meeting could be bought forward to no avail. Despite James's fear that he was not yet ready for what may become a disastrous interrogation, he also desired to have it over and done with. He says he had to force himself then to turn away from his prepared script and quit the room. He understood all of Gillette's protestations that it was an evil to be too prepared for what should actually be quite an informal meeting. Although an investigation may well be instigated, it was not yet the case. He was not in fact required to present himself to Beckett, but he wanted and needed to.

It had taken the almost sleepless night to have him seeing the error of his ways. James left his script behind when he left his home to make the short walk to Fort Charles. He still kept the finer points of his argument at the forefront of his mind but had realised that he needed to allow for Beckett to change the subject, to twist the conversation completely. Perhaps he might even move onto another topic altogether and we would be saved. He knew Beckett too well to hope for that occurrence though. His early morning walk brought him into the path of the fishermen returning to shore with their morning catch, ready to sell it at market. He was reminded swiftly that he'd not yet eaten breakfast when he turned from the market and headed uphill again towards the fort. The bakers were up early, preparing their produce. The enticing smell of baking bread would have turned his head on any other day but with his mind too preoccupied, he felt that a full stomach would only have distracted him. His pangs of hunger served as a reminder he said; of what it was that all of his friends faced if he did not rightly gauge how to swindle Beckett. I think he was greatly concerned that Beckett was trying to usurp authority in Port Royal which would leave the Swann's bereft and perhaps even in danger. He says it also made him think of me and the life I had led before I'd met Mick. He did not wish to doom me to a horrible fate at the hands of Beckett or my uncle but he was also conscious of my protestations of leaving soon. He was very aware that I had no life waiting for me wherever I went. I had no family left who I could trust in Ireland and I had none upon the sea either. It's touching that he was so concerned for my future even though his own fate was hanging in the balance where I was concerned.

At length the little houses and shops that he passed gave way to the barracks where the militia resided just outside the fort. Many of the men stationed in Port Royal had wives and families and preferred to live just outside of Fort Charles for the sake of some privacy and peace. The more career minded though were housed within the fort itself, much as James had been before he'd been promoted to Commodore. It was a lonely life for a young man to join the navy with the intentions of rising through the ranks. Although there were men aplenty to befriend, James had kept a cool distance whilst proving his sound loyalty to a particular few men. He knew he would still need to have their respect if he did manage to rise to a higher station one day. It was not something he regretted for there were men he did now call friends that he knew could be relied upon if need be. It had left him bereft though of the sense of family and belonging that he had said goodbye to when he'd left London as a young man. Perhaps that was why Elizabeth's betrayal cut so deep. For a short while he had thought that he might again experience what it was like to have a family to return home to at the end of the day, someone to offer love and comfort in times of need. That was something he had not had since he was a young boy. His father was not a cold man but he had wished for James to be strong and resilient. His mother therefore had been instructed not to crowd or console him unnecessarily. He was pushed to grow into the young man that would one day sail the seas.

Not that I think James ever had many thoughts of wanting comfort. You see, to me he was quite cut off from all feeling and emotion back then even with his longing for Elizabeth. Whatever he was feeling was trampled down so deep inside that no one could have known what was really going on there. Perhaps he was lonely and lost on many occasions but he had not been given the tools with which to communicate his upset. It wasn't so strange to me that he'd obviously a good heart within him somewhere that knew how to love. He'd loved Elizabeth for long enough after all. It was the darkness he retreated to when things didn't go his way that stumped me. I had to reason with myself for the longest of times that James was not a man well used to being refused that which he wanted. His whole life had been about ambition and power. He seemingly always got what he wanted, right up until Elizabeth chose Will Turner instead of him. For James it must have been such a hammer blow, especially in a time when women were expected to be subservient. James is not arrogant so I dare say he genuinely thought Elizabeth would accept him because it was indeed on paper a good match. I don't think in his mind that he thought he had some sort of right to claim a woman of his choosing or that she should be grateful for his attentions. No, I think he simply wanted to marry the woman he loved and provide the best life he could for her.

Still, it can't have been nice having things spin out of his control. I think that's what caused his melancholy and his retreat into the darkness. Although he always has attributed his change of views to meeting me. When I finally did tell him about my own life he reevaluated all that he did have. At least his mother and father lived. He had a promising position in the navy and a home to call his own. He also had a few friends he trusted. I on the other hand had been dealt quite the unlucky hand before I'd met Mick. He always says that I was so strong and accomplished for someone who'd been through quite a lot. He didn't understand how I'd come to deserve the life I'd lived but he believed me all the same when I told him of it. He had come to realise how lucky he had been, even if Elizabeth had slipped through his fingers.

The fort was reasonably quiet when he reached it. The changing of the guard must have only just taken place and the men from the night watch were likely returning to their lodgings to sleep. The courtyard was still and silent as James crossed it. There was something in the air that he was not quite sure about and he says it wasn't just because he'd yet to pass a military man he knew inside of the fort walls. It was then that I think he regretted not bringing with him a man that he knew and trusted. He followed the winding stairs up to the floor that his own office had once been upon. He was almost certain that a man like Beckett would have settled for nothing less than James's own office within the fort upon principle. He was right. His own belongings and paperwork were stacked haphazardly against the wall at the end of the corridor and James felt a pang of sympathy for the poor man who would eventually be asked to sort through all of the paperwork. That was all that there was really. There was nothing of any real value in the pile because James himself was not really a sentimental man at that point. He did not really carry many possessions with him whilst at sea or at home with the exception of the pocket watch that his mother and father had gifted him for his twenty fifth birthday. It had long since lost it's function because the watch face was badly cracked and the mechanism had long since become water logged. He doubted if anyone could have fixed it. Of course he had purchased a new and more functional watch for himself, but he was unable to part with the gift of days past. He's not really the type to hang on to broken things even if they are of sentimental value but I think perhaps it had something to do with the fact that it had been with him since around the time he was made lieutenant. It marked the year of change in his life, and also the year that he met Elizabeth Swann. He's since told me that the watch held even more value to him. His mother and father despite their strictness and pushiness had finally decided that James at the age of five and twenty was of an age to consider marriage. He had sorrily disappointed them of course because he'd rebuffed any of their attempts in their letters to encourage him to return home to London in order to choose a wife. He'd thought his father might have understood his determination to pursue a career first and a personal life second but they had not taken the news well. They'd gone some months without speaking when a few weeks after his birthday which had gone unmarked, the parcel arrived containing the fob watch and chain. The letters contained within the parcel assured him that his parents had not forgotten or ignored his birthday as he had previously assumed. Their parcel had simply been waylaid. It spoke to him of love and reassurance. Yes, his mother was keen to hear news of nuptials and eventually grandchildren but she did not love him any less for his choices in life. It had been an emotional time for him.

No sooner had the watch landed in his lap and reaffirmed his familial connections than Governor Swann was writing to him to ask his assistance in making the voyage from Portsmouth to the Caribbean. He had no notion of there being children involved until a few days before the voyage was to commence. he arrived in London in time to meet with governor Swann and ascertain his needs and desires for such a journey and the two men were getting on extremely well; the odd glass of brandy included before a ball of pink silk tore into the room in such a state of disarray that the sight affected James greatly. He had expected governor Swann to scold the young girl who could not have been much more than ten or eleven by looks, but her sharp mouth only had her father grinning with mirth. James thought it a bit of a weakness perhaps for a father to dote on his daughter so much. Indeed he had seen the other end of the spectrum too. He had seen both boys and girls and even young women mistreated by those who were entreated to take care of them. He chose to overlook the governor's clear adoration of his daughter for the child's sake. better that she was indulged and spoiled than mistreated even if it would prove a hard task to marry her off when the time eventually came. The necessary engagements taken care of after a nanny had finally managed to remove young Elizabeth's curious fingers from the spines of her father's books in his study, James quit the grand London home and made his way back to his lodgings. He had no idea I suppose that the spoiled little girl would come to be so dear to him.

James knocked lightly upon the office door that had once been his and waited. Sure enough a second later he heard the clipped male tone that allowed him entry. The small and crowded office seemed somehow more airy upon inspection. Gone were the dusty shelves and boxes full of overflowing paperwork and they'd been replaced with strange and intricate ornaments. James was reminded somewhat of his cabin aboard _The Surgence_. The few implements he did have there were of course telescopes or sextants and other naval navigation devices. They were things that he needed in order to carry out his duties. Cutler Beckett though who was perched behind the large oak desk had surrounded himself with meaningless ornaments that had no influence whatsoever on the business he carried out from his office each day. There were miniature portraits and Chinese vases. There were pieces of jewellery presented in stands that caught the sunlight and cast strange bursts of light over the paintings hanging on the walls. Now the first thing that of course sprang to my mind was that Beckett was overcompensating for something. James though had a more abridged view of it all. He understood the man before him then. These pieces littered throughout the room were not of a collection. Beckett was not a collector of fine things that meant something in the grand scheme of the world like my uncle. No, Beckett simply wanted people to think he was a collector. He was playing some sort of game, which made him all the more dangerous. The objects meant absolutely nothing at all to him and yet they were likely worth a small fortune. He was in quite a juxtaposition to James who had very little to call his own.

Beckett took his time getting to his feet when James entered the room. I'm not sure whether he meant it as a slight or mark of disrespect. The two men shook hands as Beckett observed James closely. Eventually Beckett gestured for James to sit. "Commodore Norrington, I do hear you've been anxious to meet with me upon some matter?"

"I have indeed Lord Beckett. I only wished to straighten out a few facts before they could be misconstrued. I do however understand that you've been otherwise occupied. I do hope you have found the running of Port Royal up to scratch. Whilst I do believe that there have been a few mishaps and that we are certainly not quite on a par with London, on the whole I do believe we have fared well here. Now that I am returned of course, I will endeavour to right any of the wrongs you have come across in my absence. I do hope that all is well and there is no serious matter that still troubles you?"

Beckett must have fixed James with quite the unnerving look for James says he felt rather put in his place even before Beckett spoke again. "Indeed commodore. In your absence I'm afraid I was required to step into the breech and fulfil the duties of both commodore and governor here in Port Royal. This port town has seemingly become rather lawless of late, but more on that later. Tea?"

James was shocked by the abrupt change of topic, not to mention slightly insulted. He knew though that Beckett was not a man to be trifled with. If James were to lose his temper before him, Beckett would surely take the notion to serve a form of punishment. He watched as Beckett began to pour tea into cups from a rather small and ornate tea pot that was clearly Chinese in origin judging by the blue paint upon white porcelain. "Perhaps tea would be acceptable after so long at sea without it," James acquiesced. He was in no mood to mention the fact that he actually rather disliked tea and thought it a clucking mother's drink. He indulged Elizabeth of course when she offered the drink because how could he not? Otherwise he tended to abstain.

"Oh commodore, do not think for one moment that I am not aware that you will have already sampled tea upon your return to Port Royal. You have made two visits to the home of governor Swann and Mrs. Elizabeth Turner have you not? I am aware that greeting visitors with tea is customary in the governor's household. Wanted and expected visitors that is; I myself was not offered any such libations when I paid the governor and his daughter a visit. I left feeling rather that I'd overstayed my welcome. Perhaps it was because Mrs. Turner was anxious that I make my leave so that her husband might make his return?"

James chose not to reply and instead accepted the tea cup and saucer that were presented to him with a sharp nod of thanks. He drank slowly, taking a few sips of tea as he observed the man before him. He knew Cutler Beckett by reputation of course, and had seen him from afar but this was his first conversation with the man. He immediately thought him quite a small man and that had nothing at all to do with Beckett's height. He was thinking, he says of how Beckett had killed my friends and shot me. He'd hovered over me long enough to prise the musket ball from my shoulder and for James I think he needed no more information to ascertain that Beckett was the kind of man who preyed on the weak and the vulnerable. He actively chose targets that for one reason or another were incapable of defending themselves. It was everything that James had been taught not to be. James speaks very little of his anger in those few moments but I can tell that he was indeed very angry. I was surprised and a little flattered later on to find that it was mostly on my behalf. Perhaps again James had been confronted with the inclination of where his real and true feelings were guiding him and yet again he ignored it all. We both were shown many indications of what or who had come to reside in our hearts and yet we did not act. We pushed down or ignored such notions for many reasons. How different things might have been if we had simply been honest with ourselves and each other. I suppose what James's impression of Beckett is what we would now call a pen-pusher once he had managed to control his rising temper and the red mist before his eyes dissipated. Of course there were no pens to push back then, so Beckett was pushing people around in the hopes of benefiting somehow.

"Enough of my own troubles. Commodore you wished to speak with me. Please; tell me news of your journey and all that ails you. I am of course glad to welcome you back to Port Royal but I had thought to meet with you much sooner. Perhaps you were waylaid in some way? Was there trouble out on the sea?"

There was a hint of malice in Beckett's tone that told James rather a lot. He guessed then that Beckett knew about Townshend's sunken fleet and was toying with him. I think James would have dearly loved to bate Beckett but he decided against such a reply because he knew that there was much more at stake than his own ego. He wanted to leave Fort Charles that day with Beckett believing his every word and so he tried for ignorance. He gave no inclination that he had noticed Beckett's simpering, backhanded probe and pretended to be genuinely relaxed and content to discuss his last few months at sea.

"I am sure you will have heard Lord Beckett, that Viscount Townshend's fleet was sunk to the sea bed recently and with the viscount still aboard. To the best of my knowledge he perished. We came upon his fleet in open water having already crossed paths with my cousin Lieutenant Beauchamp. Without my cousin's aid I fear my own ship would have been lost. I had reason to suspect that Townshend may have been carrying smuggled goods and wished to board the ship to inspect it."

"Where did you hear such rumours?" Beckett asked curiously.

"I came across a merchant ship that had recently fallen into new hands. A ship named _The Grace_ was lately in the hands of an Irish privateer named Mick O'Malley. I am sure though Lord Beckett that you will not have heard of such a man as he was a lowly privateer. These details are insignificant to you." James quickly decided to make no mention of Mick's fate, not wanting to draw Beckett's attention any more towards myself. "The ship passed to the brother, Patrick O'Malley who is not a privateer of any sort. In fact he is a pirate. I arrested the man and his crew and they told me of Townshend's cargo. I felt duty bound to investigate."

Beckett steepled his hands before him on the desk and was silent for a second or two as he appeared to be thinking of what to say. I think he knew all along where he wanted the conversation to go though. He just wanted to make James squirm. "You took the word of a man that you yourself call a pirate over the dignified reputation of a peer of our realm commodore? I am afraid that when the king hears of this, he may find fault with your judgement."

James shook his head lightly, trying his best to dispel his anger. "Lord Beckett I shall be frank with you. You cannot be ignorant of the reputation that Viscount Townshend has garnered in recent years. He is a scoundrel and a schemer. I had no inclination as to whether the pirate's words were true or not but I as I said, I felt that as I stood the chance of gaining on the viscount that I had a responsibility to act."

"What did you find when you searched Townshend's ship commodore? Was there any evidence that proved your judgement right?"

James tried for patience despite the overwhelming urge to pull rank exasperatedly and refuse to answer any more of Beckett's questions. "I did not get the chance to carry out such a search sir. I am afraid viscount Townshend opened fire upon my ship and Lieutenant Beauchamp's fleet before any search could be carried out. As I was repeatedly told sir at naval college, an attack on the king's navy is an attack upon the king himself. In order to survive we were required to open fire ourselves. Townshend's fleet was quickly lost to the depths. Aboard my cousins's ship I believe he was holding a few survivors in his brig but his superior officer will decide their fate no doubt. That is out of my hands."

Beckett reached forward to take a quill and made a scribbled note on parchment. James couldn't quite make out what it said even as he moved his head to the side a little. "Do you not outrank Lieutenant Beauchamp and perhaps even his superior officer?"

James ignored the spite in Beckett's tone. "Indeed I do sir. It is how my cousin was persuaded to come to my aid in the first place-"

"Not because he is family then, commodore? Are you sure that this wasn't all some grand concoction of yours to tear down one of the king's most respected friends?"

"What kind of insinuation-"

Beckett waved away James's attempt to interrupt him and carried on speaking. "Indeed it is as if I were interviewing a pirate himself! All of the years spent chasing down pirates and ruling the Spanish main with an iron fist, commodore; will have come to nothing if you cannot provide me with a reliable account of recent events! I am aware that you were dealt a heavy blow with the loss of _The Dauntless_ and that of your crew. Some allowances were made. Indeed I believed when you journeyed to London that you might choose to remain there. I had thought you'd given up your life at sea. I was heartened to hear that you decided to return to your post though. I really did believe you to be the saving grace of the Caribbean. The scourge they called you once. Some still do. I had hope once again that things would be put right. Yet again though, your mind seemed to run away with you. We all know what happened in this very fort over a year ago. You had one of the worst pirates within your grasp and hanging by a noose and you still let him escape, all because you'd fallen foul of the powers of a pretty face. Then you took Sidney's commission for some fool's errand. I think perhaps I made the right decision to voyage here myself and ensure that the king's good name and authority is upheld."

"Please do not invoke the king's name in this Lord Beckett." James's patience appeared to have vanished. Whilst his tone was cool and quiet, the warning there behind it was clear. "The truth is that you saw an opening and you took it. The king did not sanction you to oust his authority here in Port Royal. Governor Swann is still the king's appointed representative here and he outranks you. trying to unseat him will not fare well with the king. Indeed I no more care for what the king thinks of my actions regarding Townshend. I acted according to my duty and my own officers shall attest to this as shall Lieutenant Beauchamp and his fleet. As for the house arrest of governor Swann and Mrs. Turner, it shall be lifted under my authority. There was no cause for it. They have done nothing wrong-"

"She spurned you and still you favour her? How endearing? My dear commodore, that is not the making of an admiral. Better men than you have suffered the same misfortune and have served just punishments-"

"So Mrs. Turner should be punished for falling in love?" James stood then, feeling that the conversation had almost reached it's conclusion. "My Lord Beckett I do not see the justification in punishing a young woman who is indeed little more than a child for choosing her own husband. Whilst I agree that the match is irregular, perhaps the truth of the matter is that the two young people are well suited to one another. As for Mr. Turner, whilst his decisions were rash and his actions were lawless; his intentions were wholly good. He wished to rescue the woman that he loved. I do appreciate however, that he had a hand in the escape of Jack Sparrow. Mr. Turner was misguided I believe. Sparrow is a clever and beguiling fellow. I think he cast a spell over both of them. I do not think either of them can be readily blamed for what eventually came to pass."

"My, my, commodore. What a change there is in you!" Beckett stood too and rounded the desk to stand only a few feet from James. James desperately wanted to smirk. He had not considered before just how much taller than Beckett he was. He could not tell though if the other man regretted unveiling such a thing for Beckett's expression was stone like. Perhaps you really can spend too long at sea. They speak of cabin fever as if it is some jest, but perhaps it is what you are suffering from. Months at sea and your myriad of losses have rendered you incapable of carrying out your appointed responsibilities here in Jamaica. Perhaps you should return to London for a time to restore your equilibrium?"

James shook his head levelly, turning on his heel to make for the door. "And leave the town and the people I care for in your hands sir? I don't think so."

James had reached the open doorway before Beckett spoke again and stopped James in his tracks. "Perhaps though commodore it was something else entirely that brought about this change in you? There have been rumours you know. They say you've taken a mistress, and aboard a navy ship too. What does that say about your sterling reputation eh? Has your head been turned yet again by a pretty face? You do make rather the habit of it. I do wonder how you could have been such a fool. Questions will be asked. The first being; where was _she_ when Townshend's ships sank? You were right commodore. I do know of Townshend's reputation particularly when it comes to women. Perhaps you thought you did right by the woman's honour in disposing of Townshend's fleet but did you not stop to think for a second that this wretch will single handily tarnish your career beyond repair commodore-"

James turned back to the room slowly but he made no move towards Beckett. I think he was like to strike him if Beckett had been within reach. "Do you readily abuse those who are not present to defend themselves sir? It is all you have done since I entered the room. Indeed I did take on a passenger in the form of a young woman. Her crew were lost to the sea and she was in danger herself. To insinuate that anything further between us took place is slander. I would not see the name of a good and kind young woman and that of my own tarnished beyond repair simply for your own misguided pleasure! I brought her here and gave her into the care of Mrs. Turner who I know will care for her. I believe that was the right course of action. For you to also insinuate that an innocent young woman could bring down a whole fleet of ships alone is scandalous. You do yourself no favours sir. There is already unwavering disrespect held for you in Port Royal for your arrogance and disdain of those below you. It is you who will face a tarnished career sir, not myself. My opinion of you was entirely decided upon before I ever met you because of your poor treatment of the Swanns'. You have further besmirched your reputation by speaking out of turn about a young woman who I have come to greatly respect! In the last months I have composed a revised view of what really and truly constitutes the name pirate. There are those in the world who have little to call their own and who have more kindness, honesty and decency within them than those who govern them. Is it not true that in some cases we make thieves and then proceed to punish them? The establishment has estranged those who need our aid and support the most. We have forgotten those who do not even have coin for bread or a safe place to rest their heads. You sir look upon those poor souls with contempt. Those who are so desperate and yet have not committed any crime are who we need to help first and foremost but I think the idea of that must repulse you as it does many men of the establishment. We have a duty and a responsibility to care for the world that has bestowed so much upon us. To call me a pirate sir when you are the one robbing your inferiors of a life of health and freedom is the real act of piracy. Indeed I believe our conversation is at an end!"

"Not quite commodore." Beckett smirked. "What of Sir Malcolm Sidney and his quest? Are you to return to him empty handed or did you indeed find a valuable treasure?" James opened his mouth to speak but stopped short at the sneer crossing Beckett's face and his heart plummeted into the depths of his stomach. He realised in that second that Beckett knew everything. "Or perhaps commodore you have found him the greatest treasure of all. He's searching for a girl isn't he; one with red hair just like your new friend? Would you really want to go against my wishes when I have such information to hand? I could readily use it to bring you down and governor Swann. Your little world will crumble. Give the girl up and retain your rank commodore. Give her up as the culprit who ended the life of Viscount Townshend and I will forgive all of the misdemeanours that now follow your name."

"To do so would go against everything that I believe in Lord Beckett. If that makes me a pirate, then so be it." James left the room in a hurry, anxious plans flitting through his mind as he tried to calculate the best solution to all of his problems.

"A pirate in love though..." Beckett's smirk grew. "Mercer, I know you were listening, come out from your hiding place. Send word to Sidney. The game is afoot."

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 _ **Coming up in the next chapter, Fiona and James make another tantalising discovery!**_


	49. Chapter Forty Nine - Drake's Chart

_**Thank you so much for the reviews as ever! I do appreciate that it's been rather a long wait for this chapter but it's finally here. I'm glad you all liked the James/Beckett chapter because I wasn't sure if it packed enough of a punch.**_

 _ **So... in this chapter we see James and Fiona moving even closer as they make a new discovery.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Forty Nine - Drake's Chart**_

The anxiety and chaos within the Swann house was not something that unsettled me overly much. I had my own worries to contend with after all, but I found it rather laughable that the whole household was rushing around in a panic as they tried to make the last minute preparations for the governor's ball. Over the last lot of days there had been much discussion about it but I think up until the very day of the ball it was not entirely clear whether Elizabeth and her father would attend. It all depended on how well James's meeting with Beckett went but very early in the morning Elizabeth had made the decision for them all. She had decided that her family would attend the town hall that evening. It would be expected of them after all. Far be it from me to say whether I thought the idea a sensible one or not but I could understand Elizabeth's reasoning. She was entirely sick of being cooped up. There was also the added protection of James's men who were stationed around the house and there would be many more at the town hall. The likelihood of anyone attempting anything untoward when the governor and the Turners were surrounded by an armed guard was slim to none in her mind.

Thus, the madness began. Old dresses of Elizabeth's were plucked apart at the seams to try and fashion a new design for her to wear and every maid in the house had been roped into helping. Will and governor Swann appeared to have taken a much more sombre approach and had retreated to quiet corners of the house alone. That just left me alone in the main parlour. Elizabeth was anxious and stressed so I'd given up my almost permanent residence of her private parlour upstairs so that she might have some peace and quiet before the ball. She'd tried to refuse my offer of course but to be honest I wanted to be well away from all of the clucking and fussing. The larger parlour had a bigger floor too. That was how I found myself lying on my front with Drake's chart spread out on the floor before me. I'd been studying it endlessly for days purely because I knew I'd have to give it back soon enough. I wanted to remember every inch of the wondrous and significant markings that littered the chart. Two days ago I'd finally comprised a list of all the markings that I knew well. I'd also guessed a fair few that looked similar to markings I'd seen before. They were older than the new system I'd known whilst sailing with Mick and I dared to think they were older than the system that James and his men might have used. There were a fair few though that I could not decipher at all. I'd puzzled over them for a whole afternoon before Elizabeth suggested that I ask her father if he knew what they meant. Governor Swann had never been a naval man so he was as stumped as I was. he'd kindly lent me some books though which were now sitting piled off to the side. I'd exhausted each and every one of them but there were still a few markings that I could not decipher. I was coming to believe that they were some form of code that only the writer had known.

I leaned my head back a little to stretch my neck. I was rather stiff from lying in one attitude for most of the morning but I wasn't inclined to move any time soon. I could still hear the hustle and bustle going on in other parts of the house and was very glad to be able to stay well out of the way. I hadn't seen a soul since Mary had informed me that the breakfast table was laid. If I'd thought I might be interrupted I might have considered a more lady-like position at the table but no one had bothered me. To be honest I didn't think It would have shocked anyone but governor Swann to find me sprawled on my front on the rug with the French doors open to let the sunlight and the fresh air into the room. I'd come to feel more comfortable in the house during my stay as you can probably tell, but I'd not seen James since my rather uncontrolled outburst. I wasn't surprised to be honest. He probably thought I was entirely unhinged and hadn't a clue how to deal with me. I knew he was busy of course because he had a lot to contend with. His return to port would result in a list of loose ends that had occurred whilst he was at sea that needed tied up. There was also Cutler Beckett to deal with. Still I could not help worrying for him. Whilst I was glad to get away from the mayhem of the governor's household for a while, James lived alone and might not have had much in terms of company since he'd left us. His officers had called to the house repeatedly over the course of the last five days and that served as reassurance both that all was well with James and that we were all still relatively safe within the boundary of governor Swann's home.

I didn't really pay much attention to the sound of someone arriving in the atrium of the house because of the increased comings and goings. I vaguely heard governor Swann's voice somewhere else in the house and thought the visitor was likely there to see him. I turned my attention back to the chart before me, my eyes immediately catching on one of the markings that I'd not been able to decipher. Just south of Athens amongst the cluster of Greek islands was a strange marking that was so small I'd not been able to really tell what it looked like; but now it was moving. I pressed my face as close to the chart as I dared whilst still leaving myself enough light to see and squinted at the scribble of ink. I thought it looked like a cubed box with something set atop it but that something on top was now unfurling to resemble the tiny inky black figure of a woman who reached forward and began to pull the box apart. Form within the box a black mass was released. I sucked in a breath as the black mass began to glide across the chart. I waited with baited breath for it to perhaps unfurl into another defined form but it did not. Then incredibly it turned abruptly and flew back into the box. The figure on top folded in on itself until the marking was still once more. I continued to watch as the movement repeated itself over and over, the figure of the woman opening the box to let release whatever was held inside that resembled a black mass. I knew somehow that the chart was trying to tell me something.

I reached out slowly, lifting my arm from the floor to place my hand on the chart. Immediately the marking folded in on itself again. It was still once more but it did not replay what I'd seen. I ran my hands over the ink marking that was evidently hand drawn and felt the roughness of it. Whoever had drawn it there had pressed the quill heavily into the thick parchment that the chart was upon. They had been determined and certain of what they were drawing there. I ran my hands over the area surrounding the marking, my fingers ghosting roughly over the Greek islands surrounding it until my hand stilled and I sucked in a nervous breath. There was something just beyond my mind's reach that I was unable to snag but I knew that what I'd just discovered was of great importance. It was almost like the ghost of a memory stirring; reminding me of a secret once lost. I lifted the chart again and held it at an angle so that the rays of the sun streaming in through the open doors were hitting it. I was looking for any other as before unseen indents on the thick parchment that might not have been printed in ink. Nothing appeared to catch my eye though. I let it fall to the floor again and stared at the dormant symbol that had come to life moments before.

"What have you found?"

I jumped, my foot kicking out and knocking the pile of books flying as I spun around on my knees towards the doorway. The door was closed but James was standing just inside of it. Evidently I'd been too absorbed in the chart to notice him entering the room. He'd removed his hat and held it loosely in his hand, telling me he'd been there for more than just a few seconds; watching me.

He held up his free hand in mock surrender. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." The glistening of his eyes and the slightest grin told me he wasn't really sorry. I wondered just how long he had been standing there. "What is it about the chart that intrigues you?"

I ignored his question. "How did your meeting go?"

I moved to raise myself onto my feet again but he began to approach and shook his head lightly at me. "No, stay where you are. I'll join you." Join me he did. For a man of his stature he was all grace as he gingerly bent his legs and lowered himself to sit beside me on the rug, carefully placing his feet so that he did not touch the chart. I was becoming very used to these little glimpses of his humanity in specific moments that felt unnatural to witness. He had been such a closed book before but I felt like I was seeing a more relaxed side of him that not many got to see ever. He had stretched one long leg out beside one edge of the chart but the other was cocked at an angle, the sole of his booted foot planted flat on the rug so that he could rest one elbow on his upright knee. "Badly enough that at present I wish to be distracted by whatever it is that you think you might have found, rather than dwell upon said meeting."

The mirth I'd seen in his eyes a moment before had vanished suddenly as darkness cloaked them. They were of such a dark hue that I almost didn't recognise them. Then he gestured for me to show him the chart and the darkness was gone again. I shrugged. "I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm imagining things and there's nothing there." Carefully avoiding any discussion of the fact that I'd seen the indecipherable symbol moving before my own eyes, I lifted my hand and pointed to it, curious to see what James might make of it. "Just there."

"Miss O'Connell I think I know you well enough now to safely agree that it's highly unlikely you are imagining things." I rolled my eyes at his address of me. Just as I was never going to get used to being addressed so politely and formally, James was never going to get used to calling me by my christian name. I leaned back a little as he placed his hand on the chart and slid it along. His hand moved backwards and forwards over the symbol for a few seconds before he leaned in closer to get a better look. Would he think I'd gone daft? Would he recognise the symbol immediately and think me a fool for not having known it? Would he believe me if I told him I'd seen it move of it's own accord?

He was silent for a few seconds before he leaned back again and turned to look at me curiously. "I've no notion of what that might be. The chart is old though, that much we already know. It does not necessarily mean we shall not discover what the symbol means however. There's bound to be someone who can still read such things."

I reached behind me for the scattered pieces of parchment I'd been carrying around with me for days and handed them to him. "I'd been listing all of the symbols because a lot of them are old and are no longer in use. I borrowed governor Swann's books and found most of them. That one there was not something I was able to find in the books. That was why it intrigued me."

When I looked up from the lists in his hand I found James watching me intently, those emerald green eyes sparkling in the sunlight that flooded into the room through the open doors. I couldn't quite decipher his expression back then. Now I think it might have been poorly disguised wonder. The little profound moments between us were becoming more common and yet neither of us wanted to really delve too much into what they might mean. If we had only been truly open with one another we might have altered what was to come. At length he turned his attention back to the list in his hand and studied it for a few seconds. "There are not many young women who would have succeeded with such a task Miss O'Connell. I believe there are none of my acquaintance who would be able to tell me one contemporary naval symbol from another, let alone symbols that were in use over one hundred years ago. I do think you'd be rather wasted at home in Ireland when you have such a keen mind for things."

I tried to ignore his compliment even as I felt my cheeks flushing. I will admit to feeling a little buoyed by what he said but I chose to honour it with the truth as I had not considered doing before. He deserved that much at least when he had saved my life many times over. "The thing is that I was drawn to it for more than it's uniqueness. You see, when I was studying it earlier...well it moved. I cannot say how. Perhaps you might think it's a trick of the light or something but I swear I saw it moving-"

James was smiling softly at me as he interrupted. "What reason would I have for disbelieving you Miss O'Connell; especially after all that we have seen together? No, I would not do you the disrespect."

I nodded my thanks even though there was a part of me that still doubted whether James actually believed the marking had moved. He trusted me enough to believe that I thought I'd seen something but he had no way of knowing what my belief was founded on. I glanced back at the chart as if on instinct and willed the marking to move again before my eyes. I sent up a prayer even though if I'm honest I don't know who or what I was praying to. I wanted him to see what I'd seen but I had not much hope that he ever would. I placed my hand upon the edge of the chart, very aware that James's hand was still upon it and closed my eyes to imagine the symbol moving as it had done before behind my closed eyelids and a few seconds later I heard James's sharp intake of breath. When I opened my eyes the marking was moving again.

I turned to gaze up at James's face as he watched the symbol stretch out before his eyes; the woman opening the box to release the contents across the map before it all folded in on itself again. The movement repeated over and over again as it had done for me earlier on. Suddenly I knew what it was showing us. I shook my head a little to clear it because I wanted to doubt my own thoughts but there was no mistaking what I was seeing.

"Doesn't it look like a figure of a woman astride a box that she opens?" I queried quietly with the fingers of one of my hands crossed behind my back.

"That is exactly what it looks like," James confirmed. "You know what it is, don't you? And yet it is like nothing I've ever seen before on a chart of any kind. How is it Miss O'Connell, that you know so much and I so little?"

"You had a classical education commodore. Look closer. You know just as much as me. Forget who you are supposed to be for a moment and remember what your mother would have taught you. Remember all those tales you'd have been told as a child." James was still looking blankly at me. "It's awfully simple really; what is it showing you."

"A woman opening a box," James mused. "A woman opening a box and unleashing something upon the world." I nodded eagerly at him as I saw his eyes flash in recognition. "Pandora's box?"

"The question is whether or not this chart is showing us the location of it?"

James appeared conflicted. "Whilst I am willing to admit this symbol is remarkable in itself miss, we cannot say for certain that it is genuine. The Spanish who stole it may be responsible or it may have in fact been some trick of Drake's instead. There is no way to know. I doubt that there has been any great change in the composition of the ink used in the last hundred years or so. There is no way therefore to tell if this symbol is an original feature or a later addition." For quite some time we were both silent as we observed the chart before us. I knew James's rational explanation was entirely right of course but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about Drake's chart.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked softly after what felt like an age. I wasn't sure what he expected my mind to have jumped to in those few seconds but in all honesty anticipation had driven every rational thought from my head. I shook my head a little at him in confusion, a frown marring my features even as he offered a tentative half smile. "Miss O'Connell this chart is one of a set of four..."

"So if the others do exist," I countered as I suddenly realised what he meant. "Could they also have secrets?"

James nodded and turned his attention back to the chart. I could understand his sudden burst of imagination. What if we did find something? Had Drake hidden the location to some form of treasure within the chart for them to find? Had he in fact found Pandora's box? The possibilities were endless. I was highly aware though that the chart might have nothing at all to reveal. The Spanish who had kept it for so many years might have already stripped it of any secrets, or it may have had none in the first place.

What happened next was quite a blur. Both of our hands were still resting upon the chart and had been for some time and perhaps that was why the figure of the woman began to move more quickly, opening her box of secrets unto the world in a rapid formation that became dizzying to watch. Before either of us knew it, the figure opened her box one last time and the black mass again explored the chart but this time it did not stop. Instead it began to bleed into every corner of the chart, unfurling until there was no more chart to be seen, only blackness. A wailing and screeching filled our ears; a sound the like of which I'd never heard before. I imagine that it's what we all think a banshee might sound like when she appears to warn an old Irish family of impending doom. It was deafening but more concerning in that moment was the black mass that began to slowly rise into the air. It hovered a a few yards above the chart, stealing both of our breaths away before it began to diffuse into the room like a kind of mist. Abruptly as James gasped it changed direction as it continued to rise into the air before us. James acted quickly, anticipating events before they even happened. He grabbed me and threw us both backwards onto the floor just as the mist charged at us. For a moment there was only blackness all around us as the horrible wailing seemed to swarm above our heads. It felt like I was suffocating as air couldn't reach my lungs. My eyes stung, beginning to water as I forced them to remain open. All I was aware of was that screaming that felt so close it could have been in my own head. It felt so real and human then, becoming less like that of an old Irish folk tale and more like that of a real woman in agony and absolute despair. Her pain clawed at my heart, forcing me to acknowledge somehow everything that she must have suffered even though I knew not who she was. The darkness was closing in so much so that I suddenly wished for an end to it all. Surely if I perished then the pain would all end.

just as quickly as it had started, instantly there was nothing again. Warm sunlight filled the room once more and I heard the sound of a gentle breeze billowing through the foliage in the garden as I realised James was on top of me. One glance into his eyes told me that he'd experienced everything I just had. He appeared shaken, more so than he had been when the sword had shown itself to be more than just a weapon forged of gold. His breathing was uneven and hurried as was mine. Pressed beneath him on the floor I was unable to move, unable to put distance between us that prevented the inevitable. My eyes found his again when they had exhausted their careful exploration with the room and everything that appeared right with it. I was unable to look away once my eyes caught his. They were bewitching in hue, sparkling in the light of the sun like the purest emeralds that could ever hope to be found. At once it was as if the green rolling hills of home surrounded me once more, and I was as free as I had been as a small child with not a care in the world. The room around us vanished until it was him and me and nothingness. I could feel his breath on the side of my face, see every wrinkle of worry on his face that was seeming to dissipate before my eyes. Pressed to the floor beneath him I couldn't be certain but I thought he had moved even closer to me. His eyes never broke contact with mine, not once. What was it that I saw in them then, that took my breath away entirely and left me incapable of speech? Could it possibly be... interest?

My mind jarred. That made everything all the more difficult. I was trying to resent his interest not because I thought it wrong but purely because I believed James was destined for something much greater than any of us really knew. I couldn't deny though that my heart soared for a few seconds, that I allowed myself to dream that it might all work out as I had wanted it to for quite some time. Then with the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting elsewhere in the house I came back to the reality of things. James's misplaced interest would surely not last long. Once he saw Elizabeth in her fine dress later on he'd be back to pining over her. I had the strange desire then for there to be some fine young woman at the governor's ball from some new family in the town. James could place his interest there and make a wife for himself. He could forget Elizabeth and myself and build the life that he so deserved to have. Dreaming of something that I could not have was only making it harder for me to walk away.

We were both brought back to our senses when the door flew open and people barrelled into the room. James was on his feet again in seconds and held out a hand to help me up. I accepted the help grudgingly and placed my hand in his. On my own feet once more I was met with the astonished faces of Will, Elizabeth and her father who were staring around the room in search of the disembodied voice that had caused such a din with it's screaming. We had not been the only ones to hear it then. James and I had both turned upon instinct to stare at the chart, but all was as it had been before. The black mass had retreated into the box and the figure of the woman had closed it. It was still once more.

I was too astonished by what had just happened to think rationally so I let James offer up an explanation to everyone else. Indeed it took some time for governor Swann was not quite as ready as his daughter was to believe all of the myths and legends of the sea. It took quite some persuading to get the older gentleman to take a seat and observe the chart for himself. It was only as I did so that I noticed Elizabeth had pinned me with quite the mysterious gaze. I threw her a curious one back and she grinned. Her eyes left my face and I followed the gaze, realising that James and I were still clutching one another's hand. In the hours afterwards I tried to tell myself that it was the excitement and the nerves of what we'd just experienced that had us feeling the need to remain so connected but I'm sure you'll know that I wished otherwise from every corner of my heart.

As the excitement within the house built over the course of the afternoon I yet again steered clear of all of the commotion, burying myself away to imagine a time and a place where James and myself might take one another's hand freely and with intent. It was only later that it dawned on me that James had carefully avoided speaking of his meeting with Beckett. Perhaps it had flown from his mind as it had mine. I resolved to ask him as I made my way downstairs again in the early evening. He had left in the afternoon, promising to return to the house to escort governor Swann and the Turners to the town hall. When I found him in the atrium I smiled softly at him, glad to have a moment alone with him. I had intended to speak first but it appeared that he anticipated a barrage of questions and rushed to impede anything I might say.

"I am sorry that you cannot attend the town hall tonight with all of us. I'm sure you would enjoy seeing Port Royal by night, and all of the wonderful things it has to offer."

Even I knew that he was making conversation for the sake of it but I decided to humour him. I shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't be sorry. I'm glad I'm not going. Parties and grand social occasions aren't really my thing. I'm more than happy to be staying here. I've got Elizabeth's books to trawl through and Mary's promised me a fine supper. She says there's marzipan. I've not tried it before but she's going to let me try some later. I'm quite looking forward to the peace and quiet after all of the commotion there's been in the last few days."

He must have found something amusing in what I'd said because he smiled softly, his eyes full of that mirth that made them sparkle once more. "Perhaps we shall be returned in time to try the marzipan together. We do not expect to be very long at all."

My interest was piqued then by his pointed gaze. "What-"

"Later," he whispered as his hand found my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Elizabeth was descending the staircase in a cloud of powder blue silks on Will's arm. Governor Swann followed swiftly behind them, trying his best to dodge the slight train of Elizabeth' skirts. I'm not sure what it was I expected to happen in those next few moments. Did I expect James to trip over his own feet to get to Elizabeth? Was I sure I'd see pain and suffering behind his eyes as he watched the love his life looking more beautiful than ever and on her husband's arm no less? No. it was all civility and cordiality. It was the meeting of old friends and little more. Perhaps he was full of nerves about the night ahead. I was sure he was up to something with regards to Beckett but I'd now have no chance of speaking with him about it until he returned later in the evening. It made me apprehensive. I didn't want to be left out of the loop.

In a flurry of skirts and movement, they were soon ensconced in a carriage and it was making it's way down the hill away from the house. I didn't stay to watch. Instead I meandered into the parlour that James and I had inhabited earlier. I had expected to find it empty but I stopped in the doorway as I caught sight of the two officers sat down, their hats resting on the table top and a bottle of port between them.

"I see you two didn't get invites either?"

Gillette and Thompson smiled at me. Thompson produced a third glass and filled it with port which he then offered to me.

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 _ **In the next chapter, there may be a rather unwelcome visitor in the house...**_

 _ **Please drop me a review if possible. I'd love to know what you're all thinking of the chapters!**_


	50. Chapter Fifty - An Unwelcome Visitor

_**Thank you for the reviews as ever! Now for the first of two chapters that I took an agonisingly long time to write beccause I wanted them to be perfect and couldn't seem to get them there. I hope they are perfect now!**_

* * *

 ** _Chapter Fifty - An Unwelcome Visitor_**

It wasn't lost on me that two of James's most trusted men were watching over me that night. I was so sure that he had concocted some kind of plan and the presence of Gillette and Thompson only confirmed such theories in my mind. Nobody appeared to want to tell me what that plan might be though. I'll confess that it did bother me a little because I thought I'd proven over and over again that I was more than capable of keeping my temper in check and my head about me. No matter how much probing I did, neither man would speak of what he knew. I could readily have huffed my way upstairs to bed and left them to their bottle of port but I had always felt comfortable with both men and I was glad to have their company in the lonely house. Mary popped her head around the door occasionally to check on me and I had to wonder if she suspected that the officers might have ill intentions. She seemed reassured by my easy and relaxed position on the couch before the merrily blazing fire. I'd retrieved Mick's log book from my room and was perusing it carefully in the firelight as the two officers played at cards.

Every so often one of them would try to trick me into telling them a funny tale about Ireland but I rebuffed all such advances with mirth. I was rather enjoying the teasing match even as it interrupted my reading. At length I gave in to their barrage of questions and snapped the log book closed. I left it on the floor before the fire and moved back to the table where Thompson poured me another glass of port. I'd had two already and my cheeks were a little flushed. I told myself it was purely the heat of the room that caused it. Both men were eager to hear more tales of my time aboard _The Grace_ and of the pirate who had given the ship her name. I steered the conversation straight towards the real Grace O'Malley because if I'm honest it was still painful to think of the friends I'd lost aboard the ship that she'd given her name to. I think they'd have wanted me to tell the funny stories and to think of them all fondly. It made me feel a little guilty even as my tale of Grace O'Malley the Irish lady pirate enthralled the two naval officers. I'd denied myself the happy memories I had, all six years sailing aboard _The Grace_ with people I'd come to think of as family. I'd felt guilt and remorse at being the only one left alive and thus I'd shut down my own happiness. I'd wallowed in despair instead of remembering my friends as they would have wished to be. I was coming to realise how foolish that was. By denying myself such remembrance I was erasing my friends from history. I was the only one left alive who could immortalise them in swashbuckling tales of their exploits. I had been a part of all that too. They were my memories; happy memories.

Just as I began to think that I should speak of them no matter how painful I found it, Gillette became rather restless, checking his pocket watch every so often and shooting fruitive glances at Thompson. It was quite distracting as I could tell that their interest of my stories were beginning to wane. After one more check of the time, Gillette stood from the table and fetched his hat. "Well miss, as it is late I think we shall take our leave. I dare say Governor Swann shall be returned to the house within the hour. Come Thompson. Let us take our leave now before we meet the drunken rabble returning home from the ball."

"Miss O'Connell," Thompson nodded at me as he too lifted his hat and followed Gillette from the room.

"But it's not even that late!" I cried as I followed them into the atrium to watch them take their leave. I watched through the window as they retreated down the hill from the house with a purpose filled march. I felt extremely uneasy all of a sudden. Their presence had soothed the apprehensive knot of nerves that had been building in my stomach over the last lot of days but I now felt worse than ever. Something felt wrong with their leaving and whilst I was sure they had left to partake in James's secret plots and plans I wished they'd stayed with me. I jumped a little as I sensed movement behind me but it was only Mary.

"Were you wanting to try that marzipan miss? I can lay it out in the dining room for you, or you can take it upstairs in Mrs Turner's library if you like?"

I turned back to the window before I answered her. "Sorry Mary. I think I've no appetite left. We should leave it anyway. Best to let everyone else enjoy it too." I felt Mary arriving at my side to join my vigil at the window. We were silent for a few minutes as we both contemplated the stillness of the house and the hillside it sat upon. "Why do I feel like something bad is about to happen Mary? I feel as if the devil himself might be awaiting us in the darkness tonight."

Mary shook her head at me knowingly. "Too much port and not enough dinner I think Miss Fiona. Come upstairs. I'll light the candles in your room and you can read for a bit before bed. I thought you might want to wait up for the commodore's return but I can tell him you were overtired. I can bring you tea if you like?"

I chuckled despite my apprehension. "Mary I don't wish to offend you at all, but you've forced more tea down my throat than my own mother ever did! I think I can manage without tea until tomorrow, but I suppose I will read for a bit before bed. If I'm awake when everyone returns I'll come down."

I followed Mary upstairs but my mind was still upon the slopping carriage path that led down into the town from the house. To me it seemed as if there was something or someone lying in wait to pounce just beyond the darkness. I couldn't shake the feeling even as Mary lit the candles in my room and bid me goodnight. I supposed it was still early to some, but I was glad to climb into the big comfortable bed with another of Elizabeth's books. My eyes briefly caught on the copy of Ovid's Metamorphoses that I'd propped up on the mantelpiece between two candlesticks. Elizabeth had offered me any books I wanted and I'd sworn I'd take none but that one. There was still something about it that transfixed me somewhat even though I'd barely read a few pages. I knew there was still more for me to discover about my own fate and that of others. I only hoped that if I had to leave in a hurry that I'd remember to retrieve the book before I left.

To this day I'm not sure whether it was a noise from somewhere within the house that woke me or whether it was something that I'd dreamt that had me jerking out of a deep slumber. The candles had burnt out and the room was cloaked in darkness. I couldn't recall what I'd been dreaming of in those moments because I was trying to fight off the overwhelming sense of apprehension that filled me. Surely it was extremely late, perhaps even early morning? Why then did I feel as if the house was an empty void of nothingness. Governor Swann and the Turners should surely have returned home hours ago. Despite being sure the house must be almost empty apart from the staff, I still felt like something lurked just beyond the darkness. In that moment I thought there must be something beyond the door in the corridor that was somehow evil. The floor was cold under my feet as I slid silently out of bed and crossed the room towards the chair were James's coat still lay in a perfect fold. From the pocket I freed the blade James had given me and gripped the hilt tightly before turning back towards the door. I could just make out the sliver of moonlight that permeated through the crack below the door. I moved slowly and carefully towards the door, very aware of all of the spindly pieces of furniture that Elizabeth had littered about the room. I've since wondered if that was deliberate. Had they all thought I'd have made a run for it much sooner? Perhaps they wanted to place as many obstacles in my way as possible.

When I reached the door and took hold of the cold metal handle I hesitated, trying to calm my ragged breaths before I burst out into the hallway. I didn't know what awaited me but when I finally wrenched the door open with the knife held at chest height, there was nothing there. Whatever I had thought I'd see, I had not envisioned an empty hallway. I crept out of the room and spared the window at the end of the hallway a glance before I headed slowly in the direction of the stairs, my way lit by moonlight alone. I think that was when I became convinced that a sound somewhere in the house might have woken me, for ironically not even a floorboard creaked. The storm from the evening before seemed long gone as the windows didn't rattle and all outside was still. When I at last reached the balcony and looked out over the atrium in the darkness I expected yet again to see an ominous figure below. Not even the footmen were at the doors though. Something very odd was going on and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. I wondered if I could find my way down into the bowels of the house and to where Mary might be because I was sure that the frigid cold air meant that no one else was above stairs with me, or at least anyone friendly. Heavens, I think I'd have even been comforted a little if even Hawkins had shown his face.

The cold hilt of the dagger was biting into the palm of my hand but it was a grounding pain that reminded me I was not dreaming and that I needed to have my wits about me. I puzzled then over the lack of footmen as I recalled waking a few nights ago in the early hours of the morning. I'd not gone downstairs but I'd ventured out to the balcony for a few moments to feel new air around my face in the hopes that I'd fall back to sleep again quickly. Then, there had been two footmen at the doors and god knows what horrid hour of the morning it had been. From that I surmised that there were footmen there through the night. It struck me then that perhaps everyone had arrived home and had been in need of assistance, thus taking the footmen from their posts. I dismissed that thought almost as soon as I had it. There was no one here in the house with me who was friendly. Indeed whoever that it was I was becoming sure was lurking downstairs felt evil to me.

I suppose you will be wondering why I didn't retreat to my room and curl up under the coverlet, waiting for the others to return home. I had no doubts that James would be amongst them and I could have let him deal with the unknown entity. I also could have done what I really wanted to do and go below stairs to the domain of the household staff. There at least I knew I'd find safety. It sounds rather stupid of me even now to admit that I knew I was going to do neither of those things. I wanted to know who the intruder was and I wanted to know what they sought. Perhaps they thought the house was almost entirely unoccupied and had taken their chance to loot it whilst the staff were ensconced elsewhere? Or perhaps something untoward had happened to my friends at the town hall. May-hap they were not returning to the house and someone lay in wait for me. I needed to know what had befallen James if anything, so I began to slowly descend the stairs, glancing all around me as I went for some sign of light or movement.

I won't say I was pleased to discover candlelight glistening through the doorway to the breakfast room. Although what an intruder might want in that room I did not know. Aside from crockery and spring muslin hanging before the windows there was little else the room had to offer. I was very aware of the sound my bare feet might make on the marble floor so I placed my feet ever so carefully, not wanting to alert the intruder to my presence before I was ready. My heart was hammering in my chest and my hands shook even as I reached the door and softly pushed it open further. The room was empty. I was grateful the tablecloth had been cleared away and I was afforded a clear view of the under table area. That would be a prime hiding place otherwise.

As I stepped into the room I think I began to realise just how sinister all of it really was. I think I knew then who lay in wait. The thing was that like so many great houses of the time, the governor's home was of a particular layout in that each room on the ground floor led into the next. I could already see that the door into the next room was ajar and that candles were lit there too. It was as if someone had set a candlelit trail for me to follow. I was being lured around the house for some reason. I was clever enough to deduce that it was more of a scare tactic to disorientate me rather than to fulfil any other purpose. Someone was playing with me and I didn't very much like the idea of their game. The blade I held suddenly became a lifeline to me in those gloomy few seconds as I made the decision to follow the candlelight on into the next room. I was tempted to lift one of the candlesticks and take it with me for fear I'd end up somewhere where there was no light but my mind focused on the fact that survival and protection was infinitely more important. In the darkness, my opponent would likely be as blind as I was so all that really mattered was that I was as armed as I could be. I knew there must have been pistols in the house somewhere but I was not about to go ahunting for them when I knew that a few rooms along there were swords mounted on the wall. I felt much more comfortable with a blade.

My pace quickened as I walked on plush carpets through sitting room after sitting room, wondering how on earth Elizabeth and her father had the time to make use of so many rooms. I stopped in the small library that I'd seen governor Swann disappearing into a few times over the last few days as I heard the strange garble of shouting outside. There was definitely more than one voice but they were quite a distance from the house I suspected. I could not make out the words they were shouting. I stood stock still until the sound dissipated, not willing even to breathe lest it give my position away to anyone who wished to seek it. I wasn't even tempted to move to the window to try and see what the commotion was outside. Trying to recall the maze of rooms I'd been getting to know over the last lot of days, I realised that there was only a small antechamber between myself and the last room which was a grand dinning room. Neither room had been in use since my arrival. Governor Swann had not hosted any great banquets and thus the antechamber that the staff used to arrange all of the food before they served it was not in use either. The antechamber was the only room on my lonely trail without light. It did occur to me at the time that although a narrow room, it was a room all the same and there was indeed furniture on which a candlestick could be placed. Shall we say it showed the thought process of a refined man; for I think to call him a gentleman is too good for him. Of course he'd not think to light the room that was used only by the household staff. It was the great rooms for hosting and recreation that would have appealed to him more.

I knew then who awaited me in the dinning room. The scar of my healed shoulder wound prickled painfully as if reminding me just what the man was truly capable of. I rubbed it softly with my free hand and then I tried to put it to the back of my mind. I needed my wits about me for what I was about to endure. Opening the door to the dinning room carefully, I stepped in to the grandest room in the house that was not as well lit as I had thought it would be. I'd seen it in daylight of course so I knew that the long mahogany table ran almost the full length of the room and that couches of some of the finest fabrics in the Caribbean were littered around the walls. I was at least glad that in the gloom I could not feel threatened by the odd and fearsome faces in the large portraits looking down at me from on high. I stepped further in, straining my eyes as I stared into the dark recesses for anything untoward. It was before the fire that I saw him.

I knew from the back of his head that I looked upon the man that James had told me was Cutler Beckett. He was much shorter than James or any of his officers and he wore rather an intricately powdered and coiffed wig that spoke of balls and assemblies rather than windy seas. Perhaps he had attended the town hall earlier that evening for the governor's ball and had sneaked away to search the near empty house undisturbed. The question was, how had he managed to find himself inside such a house when it was indeed heavily guarded by red coats. I made note then of the blades hanging high above his head that glinted in the sparse candlelight. Although the swords were pinned high above the mantle place they were there all the same and I was reassured by that fact even though I had no idea how I would climb high enough to reach them if I had need of them.

My eyes ghosted over the other details of the room that I could discern including the paperwork spread out across the dining table. With a jolt of worry I recognised the sketch I'd made all those mornings ago in James's cabin aboard _The Surgence_ , the one that resembled closely the map in Townsend's cabin that I had copied from memory. Surely he wouldn't know what it was. Perhaps he had not even noticed it. I corrected myself then for surely James would not have left such paperwork strewn over the table like that. He'd have wanted it hidden away somewhere safe. I spent an anxious few minutes trying to decide what I should do. I could retreat silently backwards the way I had come and go in search of Mary and the footmen who would likely try to make quick work of Beckett if they could. There was a part of me though that was growing increasingly worried about the fact that I'd not seen a single member of the household staff in a good few hours. Would there be a way out of the house for me if I tried to make an escape? Could I reach the doors and alert one of James's men or even try to reach the town hall and James himself. All of those things I dearly wanted to do, but deep down I think we all know I owed my friends a little something more than cowardice. I owed it to myself as well to at least show the man before me that I was not someone who he could push around or mistreat. I could show him the real madness of the Irish and exact the revenge that I felt I deserved to take. I clutched James's blade more tightly as I took a few more silent steps into the room and I knew my decision was made.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked coolly from where I stood. I felt nothing but rage in those few seconds but I tampered it down, knowing somehow that rage was what the man before me would want to see in my eyes. It would tell him I was vulnerable.

With the table between us, Beckett was still a little in darkness. Facing away from me and gazing into the fire I had no idea if he was pleased by my presence or not. He did not jump in surprise at the sound of my voice. I had not expected him to. I was sure he'd meant to lure me into his presence for some reason. I did not even need to look towards the double doors that led back out into the atrium of the hall to know that they were locked. Of course he'd have wanted to create a trail of some kind. If we did happen to be interrupted, whoever it was would have to follow the path I had, thus giving him time to escape.

Ever so slowly he began to turn towards me, pivoting on one foot until I came face to face with the monster that had gunned down my closest friends. Those grey eyes that spoke of a cold and dreary landscape that was a cavernous void of despair made me think suddenly of how I'd felt all those years ago when I was locked away in my uncle's home in London. I wondered suddenly if it was London itself I feared so much even though I'd seen little of the city itself. Beckett was from London after all. If it were not for James, Elizabeth and her father I'd be inclined to believe that London was a cesspit where the evil of the world was born and made. My uncle who had travelled there as a child for a new life had lost much of his true Irish roots and had become a shell of the man his parents had wished him to be. After all, they'd brought my own father up so they could not be at fault. It's strange isn't it how someone's eyes can show you their true soul; how they can guide you so much that you instantly know what they are to you before you've even spoken with them. Take James for instance. His green eyes had often made me recall the lush green fields of Ireland. He made me think of home, I think I've mentioned before. It was beginning to dawn on me that he didn't just remind me of home any more. Ireland had not been my true home for a while. Of course I had a great fondness for it. It was my heritage and was so much a part of who I was, but I did not belong there anymore. No, I'd come to realise that James was my home.

I was so lost in thought for a few seconds that I didn't realise Beckett had begun to move towards me around the table. Instantly chastising myself for not being alert I raised the blade in my hand to chest height and pointed it at him. "I wouldn't advise you to move any closer."

He smirked and I was sickened by the smugness I saw in his cold eyes. "Why ever not Miss? It's not as if you're going to kill me is it? You've had your chance after all. You've been stood there with that blade in your hands for quite some time and you've made no move to maim me."

I shook my head lightly, trying to dispel my sudden spike of rage so that I could pay attention to the finer details. I needed to keep my head about me for this conversation. If I found myself alone again later on, then I would let myself crumble. "Why would I kill you yet? You have answers I want. I'll hear them first before I chose to gut you like a fish!"

"I must say it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance after all this time Miss O'Connell; or should I say Lefroy? Do let me know which name you prefer to go by. I've heard so much abut you that-"

"We've already met!" I lifted the tip of the blade and pressed it gently against my shoulder. despite the linen of the shirt I wore, the coolness of the steel was slightly comforting against the suddenly searing heat of my scar. "Or have you forgotten what you did that day? You gunned down my friends! You gunned down me and tore the shot from my flesh. I want to know why! I want to know why you did what you did that day!"

The smug smirk was back in place swiftly. "Now miss if I told you that, we'd reach the end of our enjoyment ever so swiftly. I'd much rather that we got to know each other at a more sedate pace. Indeed I'm inclined to think that way of life might be familiar to you. You are just a country girl after all."

"Irish country girls are a force to be reckoned with. Someone should have told you that before you forced your way into this house. How did you find your way in here?"

Remarkably he reached for the back of one of the chairs at the table and pulled it free. He sat gingerly, reaching behind him to throw out his coat tails as he did so. when he was settled he clasped his hands together in an appearance of sophistication. I didn't think him very much the gentleman though. Indeed I thought very differently. I thought James appeared much more the gentleman even in the throws of a storm at sea as he fought to ensure the safety of his crew, swinging wildly around the ships wheel and the masts with his dishevelled wig and his uniform in tatters. Beckett was not a man of action, therefore I had no respect for him at all.

"Well now miss Lefroy-"

"Don't call me that!" I snapped and found a strange sort of venom present in my voice.

"Fiona then? Is that not how you are so called by those you call friends? Mr. Hawkins was so aggrieved that he did not have such a pleasure. In fact he told me so himself when he reported to me some days ago. You may have given him up as little more than a swindling treasure hunter but I think he has been underestimated by all. Indeed it was he who posed as a distraction just beyond the boundary to this house. He afforded me the chance to meet with you here unhindered." That explained the commotion I could still hear snippets of from outside. It was also perhaps what had encouraged the footmen to abandon their posts. I thought it strange though that none of them considered it might be a distraction. Surely James's men were well schooled enough to recognise that there was very little for Hawkins to gain by pulling such a stunt. I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind though as Beckett continued speaking. "I am curiously intrigued by commodore Norrington's careful protection of you. I've never known the man to be so diligent. Do you not think that in doing so he has showed his hand rather carelessly?"

I was shaking my head in denial even as I realised what he was trying to do. James was always diligent and determined no matter the pursuit. Beckett was trying to manipulate me as many men do to women. They think our emotions are there to be played with and used to their own devices. Beckett thought he could turn me into some love sick fool by tugging on my heartstrings. The reality was that I think I was more inclined to cry with rage and frustration at being so accosted by the man who had murdered my friends than I was over James. My mind was already made up that James thought little of me beyond a friend and an able sailor. Therefore nothing Beckett said upon such a matter would really sway me. Although I was certain of my own feelings for James I had no right to presume what he did or didn't feel for me. I knew though that James would have helped anyone as he had helped me. Deep down he was a decent man and always had been. "Commodore Norrington shows his true qualities as a gentleman daily. I do not think he would appreciate your insinuations about his actions. They have been entirely honourable. I think you only make yourself appear a fool by slandering his good name. The commodore offered aid when I needed it gravely. He did so because my late captain once saved his life. He recognised that I'm no pirate or trickster. I only wanted a quiet life. He was trying to help me attain that!"

"A quiet life indeed," Beckett sneered as he threw his hands wide at the splendour of the room. "I will not do you the disservice miss of suggesting that you wished to try and swindle the commodore out of his fortune. He had greatness ahead of him at one time but you are far too clever to think he would be wooed by someone like you. Before he met you, commodore Norrington ruled the seas and Port Royal with an iron fist. Piracy was his firm enemy and I believe he was destined to be one of the best admirals the Caribbean has ever seen. He has grown weak though in his friendship of you. He has seen the world through the eyes of a lesser being and has been in my opinion irrevocably influenced by you. Perhaps you really are as intelligent as I think you are. In which case you will have no notion of the true powers you might hold over such a man as James Norrington. Can you really be so blind as to not see the destiny you hold inside you; the reason why so many men have fallen at your feet? Your uncle, captain O'Malley and now the great James Norrington. You've broken the resolve of a great naval man. _The scourge_ they called him a while ago. Some still like to call him that but I fear he has rather lost his touch. He cannot be blamed too much of course when temptation was thrust beneath his nose. We already understand that he's a man prone to indulgences where pretty women are concerned, but you are so much more than that. Do you really not know who you are and what you are capable of? Did your great friend O'Malley not tell you?"

I couldn't shake the feeling that every word that Beckett spoke was staged somehow. None of it felt true at all but I wasn't sure if that was just because I hated him with every fibre of my being. The words Patrick had spoken to me down in the brig of _The Surgence_ flew through my mind briefly before I banished them. I did not need to muddy the waters any more by buying into anything that Beckett said. I would have much time later on to decipher his intentions and his tales. "Why do I get the feeling that all of this is leading to some big grand proposition? Whatever it is, it's a no. You can't keep meddling with people's lives for no reason other than your own betterment! You stand before me now, slandering the name of a good man and insinuating that I have tried to trick that man in some way? All of that after what you did to my friends; to me? I want to know desperately why you killed my friends. I want to know why you gunned down decent and loving men who had toed the line all of their lives! Those men were at sea because life on land became unbearable; because they'd already been through so much! It was their freedom! You ripped that away from them! Whatever it is you want, you're asking the wrong person for help! I'd rather tear you apart sinew by sinew with this blade! I'd happily face the consequences of such an action after all that you've inadvertently put me through! You're a man who likes a challenge though so lets take the weapons from the wall!"

Beckett's gaze followed the jerk of my chin, his head swivelling until he caught sight of the crossed swords above the fire place. There was this overwhelming urge inside me then to let loose the dagger in my hands, to launch it at him. It would have been such a simple thing to do, to launch it through the air and let it strike home between his shoulder blades. Would it have killed him outright? Now I look back and I think that I had just as much chance of missing my target all together because my hands were shaking so violently. Even if I did manage to run him through the reality was that he might not have perished straight away. I know now that I would not have had the mental capacity to deal with that scenario. I'm no killer. I don't ever want to be. If I was forced to defend myself I'd retaliate and fight for my life but to have to stand over an injured soul and watch them squirm when I'd already maimed them badly enough? I think that's the worst kind of torture I can imagine. Don't get me wrong I hated Beckett enough to want to cause him every kind of pain imaginable but I didn't have it in me to be the vindictive kind of being that he was. He'd stood over me on the deck of _The Grace_ that day and prised the shot from my torn apart shoulder. He'd given no thought to me whatsoever. He believed I'd be swept away by the sea and lose my grip of life just like that. That's the difference between myself and him. He wants to watch the world burn. If he attacked me again though I resolved to be ready. I'd give as good as I could get. I'd tear him apart with my bare hands if he pushed me far enough.

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter, Fiona's conversation with the unwelcome visitor continues and she must make the agonising choice between life and death.**_


	51. Chapter 51 - Destined for Greatness

_**Thanks for the reviews as ever! To the guest, you might be on to something there ;)**_

 _ **So, we left off with Fiona in a battle of wits with Beckett, but what will happen next?**_

 _ *** I made use of a word in this chapter which I think only the Irish use but I may be wrong. Quare - generally means great/remarkable/excellent.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fifty One - Destined for Greatness**_

"I think its time you left," I rasped as I forced the blood lust down. Despite the fact that I wanted to avenge my friends I knew that there were a lot more people who could suffer if I did so. To leave Beckett bleeding out on governor Swann's fine rugs would be to embroil the whole family in my crime. God knows how James would be affected by it. "Leave now before the governor finds you trespassing in his home. Rest assured I'll tell him you were here all the same but at least you'll survive for a little longer. I won't have you using me as some sort of ploy to pull down those who have helped me. Is that what this is all about? Using the weak link to break the chain? I've got news for you Lord Beckett! I'm nothing to them! I'm just a lodger who isn't even paying her due. Go home now and live to see another day. If you stay here then you'll face the wrath of Mrs. Turner. You've tried to destroy her family and her life. She won't let you leave unharmed. You tried to arrest her husband and separate them both from one another and then you tried to discredit everything her father has worked for all his life! I'd be wary of that one if I were you!"

He was chuckling nonchalantly then, as if I'd told an old joke of no consequence and he'd laughed purely to humour me. "No indeed Miss Fiona I think you are a great deal more than the weak link in the chain. Indeed I think you are the clasp that hooks it all together. Without you I doubt there would be any reconciliation between the Turners and commodore Norrington. They are all working together in their careful care and protection of you. Do not tell me that you have not noticed. Strange really, how they've all come together like that when they have no notion whatsoever of who they are really protecting."

"You can talk in riddles all night if you want Beckett. I'm Irish so I can too. At least mine have meaning. _Dress a goat in silk and he still remains a goat._ For all your riddles and protests of being the gentleman you're still the stone cold killer I met that day aboard _The Grace_. Nothing you say will make me see you any differently. I'm no eejit. You came here to say something so I suggest you get round to it. One thing I did learn about our friend Mr. Hawkins is that he might be a quare talker but he can't run to save his life. I'll bet that he's been caught up with by now. You haven't got long and remember who holds the cards here." I jerked the blade forwards a little to emphasise my point. " _A man may yet live after loosing his life but not after loosing his honour_. You've a lot to risk in coming here and cornering me like this, especially given that I'm the only witness that can attest to all the harm you've done. When people find out about it all, you'll wish you were dead, that I ran you through right now. You have no honour left to loose. You're close to done for."

"And yet you are willing to hear me out?" Beckett raised a brow in question even as the shouting outside stopped abruptly. "I think you know yourself Fiona what lies ahead. You'll run before long, wont you? The truth is you know you don't belong here with these people. Neither did you belong aboard _The Surgence_. The time has come for you to part with your new friends for good but I think perhaps there are strings attached that have so far prevented you from doing so. You care too much, that is your weakness. Now, I am going to give you the opportunity to make the right kind of choices; to pay back those who have aided you. Under your influence commodore Norrington cannot possibly hope to ascend to the rank of admiral. His behaviour befits that of a common pirate to abscond aboard a navy vessel with a woman aboard. A woman of low birth and of no consequence too. It is laughable. They may even strip his current rank of commodore from him too. You might like that though. As a mere lieutenant, society might be persuaded to overlook his association with you. That might bring about a chance for you to tell him your true feelings without feeling embarrassed. Perhaps that's what you wanted all along! To pull him down a rung or two-"

I waved the blade again, my hands shaking even more as rage began to build inside me again. "Don't you dare presume to know my thoughts and feelings. Don't dare judge me when you stand before me with blood on your hands! You have no notion of what I really think of James Norrington for I have spoken of it to no one. Contrary to your ludicrous claims I know exactly where I stand in all of this. I'd rather die than see the commodore stripped of anything. He deserves the world and more and I would never wish to stand in his way!"

Beckett moved then, on his feet once more and striding closer to me around the table as I finally began to feel the first frissons of fear crawling up my spine. I gave in to my impulse and stumbled back a few steps. "As I thought." Beckett smiled then, and it was not a smug sneer like before. It was joy I actually saw in his eyes then as they flashed to the window and back to my face. He too had noticed the silence outside. "Of course I had to be sure though. It does appear that commodore Norrington has met his match. It's remarkable that you can truly feel for a man who was once so cold hearted. I grant you the praise you are due in reawakening the marble Apollo that set out upon the seas with no notions of the fairer sex at all. You certainly made him re-evaluate much. As I said though, it cannot be allowed to continue. I shall make you a proposition Fiona and I think it is one you shall take me up on. First I shall tell you what will happen if you do not. Governor Swann will loose his footing in Port Royal. Mr. Turner will swing from the noose until he is dead for acts of piracy, as will Mrs. Turner. Her father will swing also because fraternisation with pirates is considered illegal in these parts; or at least I will make it so within a day or two. Commodore Norrington will be stripped of his rank and brought before tribunal and executed for the unlawful deaths of Viscount Townshend and his crew. I doubt you know what that entails miss but it would be the height of embarrassment for a man like him to bow out in such a way. I will make sure he is court martial-ed and imprisoned both for his acts of piracy and his fraternisation with known pirates right away. He will face the firing squad for Townshend's death and even that is a mercy. A poor way for a man with so much honour to leave this world is it not? All because you got yourself trapped beneath a man like Townshend. I know that man's reputation. Everyone does. But of course I know little of you at all. Perhaps you threw yourself at Townshend! Perhaps you had designs upon him all along and knew commodore Norrington would come rushing to your aid! Well, you got your desire! You have destroyed the reputation of the man you claim to revere above all others!"

I was shaking uncontrollably. Deep down I knew Beckett had the clout to make all of that happen. Nausea crept upon me as I took in all that he had said and ensured I understood all of what was at risk. I forced myself to picture all of my friends and the man that I loved dying because I couldn't quit them. It made sense all in all to try to save them if I could. I'd been planning to leave them all behind anyway but was Beckett right in saying that there was something holding me back from making my escape? Would I ever have plucked up the courage to leave the safe haven of the house on the hill and cut the ties irrevocably? I suppose we shall never know how the alternative tale would have panned out.

"What do you want me to do?" I rasped. I was shocked to find that tears were streaming down my face, my voice cracking as I tried not to sob. Whatever I had in mind, I suppose I had not really considered what was to me the worst case scenario.

"I'm glad you asked that question Fiona. I want you to listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you. Deviate from my carefully laid plan and I will ensure that your friends swing. You will wait three days. Three days should be long enough for you to begin to burn your bridges with these people. Then in the early hours of the morning, under the cover of darkness you will leave this house. Mr. Hawkins will meet you down at the quayside and you will allow him to escort you from Port Royal. You will go with him where he takes you, and you will make no attempts to escape or disrupt the journey in any way. If you do I shall know. Mr. Hawkins will place you into the gratefully receiving hands of... the awaiting authorities. You will claim responsibility for the death of Viscount Townshend. If you do not I will have no choice but to bring charges against commodore Norrington. The King will require justice for the death of his favourite. You are going to give us that in order to save those you care for. I would like to disclose some news to you that may sway your decision. Your uncle awaits news close by. He expects me to hand you over to him. I did agree to bargain with him but I have deeper pockets than he does. I am willing to allow you some clemency if you agree to my terms. I will not hand you over to your uncle, but you will face justice for the death of Viscount Townshend. You will face a fair trial of course but you can be in no doubt as to the outcome. Follow through on all of this and I will leave James Norrington be."

I couldn't speak, couldn't move has he advanced even closer. I'd frozen entirely as panic set in. My uncle...close by. It was everything I'd been fighting against since I was fourteen years old, everything that had kept me fighting for eight years of my life; fighting to always be one step ahead and as far from the man as possible. My mind jarred and I was unable to think at all as I struggled to catch a breath. It felt like the walls were closing in, like someone was hammering on all four of them. My mind jumped back all those months to the sound of Mick hammering on my cabin door, of him dragging me from bed to help the rest of the crew in the storm. I saw it all again in my mind. The expressionless cold grey eyes as they gunned down my friends without a thought and Mick's face, Mick's eyes as he fell, dragging me with him with his hand fisted in my skirt. The sudden jerk as he yanked me sideways and I began to fall but not in time enough to miss the shot entirely. The searing pain that left me speechless and incapable of movement as the shot tore through my shoulder. The fight to stay conscious, to remember every inch of the evil face before me as he ripped the shot free of my wound. Mick's eyes again, the last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me. That storm should have killed me, but I'd crested a wave and somehow managed to survive.

I crested a wave again, coming back to my senses even as I still struggled to breathe. The room came back to me, the hammering sound real and true and the shouting from the other side of the door even more so. There were footsteps rushing towards us, the sound of splintering wood as the doors behind me began to give way. Perhaps Beckett was finally aware his time was up. From within his coat he produced his own blade, only pausing for long enough to snarl, "Let us take the weapons from the wall indeed," before he swung his arm into the air. The blade struck the side of my neck and he sliced. I couldn't help the wail of pain even as I reacted wildly, swinging my own blade about and backing away from him. In my more conscious state later on I realised that Beckett must have been aiming for where my shoulder wound may beneath my shirt but the intrinsic clicking sound of the lock on the doors giving way distracted him. He had thrown himself backwards and his blade was out of sight, glinting once in the firelight before he secreted it beneath his coat again.

"What the devil is going on here!" I jumped not at the voice so close to me, but at the touch of a careful hand that wound around my neck, pressing firmly against my wound. It no longer stung because my rage was beginning to return. I don't know if I was perhaps angry that my weaknesses might have been witnessed by someone and they'd know Beckett could bring them about. James used his hold of my neck to ease me closer to him, tucking me under his arm and into his side even as his hand shook. His indignation matched mine or perhaps it was even more ferocious as he gently prised the blade from my outstretched hand. The glint of the emeralds at it's hilt had me recalling his eyes. I turned to look up at them suddenly as I needed the reassurance of them. I'll never forget how dark they were. Maybe I should have been wary of such ferocity but the truth is I marvelled at it. Emeralds became Tourmalines as his temper worsened. That temper felt like something I knew and trusted, something that held all the promise and reliance in the world. They looked like home to me. It was as if I belonged there tucked beneath his arm, surrounded by his passionate anger on my behalf.

"How nice of you to join us commodore. Your new friend and I were just discussing what the future holds for all of you. I'm afraid though I've outstayed my welcome and I'm overdue at Fort Charles. I do hope you shall excuse my hasty departure-"

With a slight squeeze of my neck that told me not to intervene, James swiftly interrupted Beckett. "Pray tell what this conversation entailed exactly Lord Beckett? For as I see it you have broken an entering to this home and have been violent towards someone under my protection. Surely it cannot have been our future that was upon your mind when you set foot in the governor's residence tonight but your own?"

James's words were dripping venom. Later on I came to appreciate his anger but at the time to be honest I was a little shell shocked. I couldn't really take any of it in, so much so that I almost missed the most infinite of nods James made to Gillette who had entered through the door I had. He had followed the trail with three other officers behind him. The officers moved as one, three more emerging from behind James into the room towards Beckett who swiftly held up his arms in surrender.

"Now commodore surely there is no need for this? I'll have you know that they won't take kindly to this in London!"

James must have pocketed my blade because his hand again reached for my arm, this time to push me behind him slightly. His hand left my neck as he began to advance into the room. "I don't give a damn what they think in London my lord!" he roared suddenly, his face reddening even more with each second that passed. "Your schemes and conquests on this island are at an end. I will make sure of it. The time has come for us all to chose a side and I have readily chosen mine. Gillette, clap him in irons."

"Miss Lefroy may have occasion to disagree with you there commodore." His simpering voice sickened me but with his eyes on me I had no choice but to forget my fear and meet them with my own gaze. "You know miss why this cannot be permitted. This act of mutiny cannot go ahead. You recall what we discussed, do you not? You know the value and importance of rank. It has been your firm friend these many months."

James threw me an apprehensive glance over his shoulder but I was still incapable of speech, my breath not yet returned to me and my wits thrown to the wind. The news that my uncle was so close at hand had knocked all conceivable thought from my mind. It was like I'd thrown these internal shutters up around my mind so that nothing else could penetrate it whilst I tried to process the news that I was almost back in the clutches of the man I hated most in the world. That thought began to rankle around my mind though. Was he still who I hated most; the uncle who had tried to wed and bed me by force when I was still a child? Or was it the cold blooded murderer before me that had killed all of my friends? I suppose in my own sick and twisted depths of my mind I knew what I'd to if I were in my uncle's clutches once more. He was a man of simple tastes when all was said and done. I'd know how to handle things best. No, it was the man before us all then who I had the most trouble reading, who because of his capable and calculating mind posed the most threat to us all. My uncle didn't care about the Turner's or governor Swann or even the fate of Port Royal. He was a treasure collector and I was the most cherished of any prize. Beckett's wanton destruction would be on a much grander scale. It was settled in my mind already, I realised. I knew what I had to do and yet I could not bring myself to speak. Beckett was the most near and present danger. If I'd found out about my uncle in some other way and Beckett hadn't threatened everyone, I would have considered James the safest and most trustworthy person to protect my from my uncle. Now though I would have to part with him to save him from Beckett.

It was governor Swann who finally spoke up and voiced his own concerns. "Commodore you cannot do this. I cannot allow it. By such an action you risk my daughter's life!"

James turned furious eyes upon his one time mentor. "No sir I mean to save her life and yours by locking this man away until his fate can be decided!"

Governor Swann was shaking his head in almost despair as he crossed the floor towards James. "I understand your wish to do so my boy but we must do things by the book. An outside party must conduct proceedings and the relevant people must be notified. We cannot be so lawless as to lock away lords without first petitioning the king in such matters!"

James appeared flabbergasted. "Sir am I right in thinking that you wish to wait for the king's permission? That will take months. We do not have months. We do not even have hours. We must act now!"

"No commodore, we must await at least another day. I will send word to the Earl of Pembroke who is currently in Havendale. It will only take a matter of days for him to reach us. He may preside over this case fairly. I ask you, what can one man do with perhaps only twelve hours of freedom? Lord Beckett shall be watched. We shall see that no harm comes to him and also that he does not leave this town."

"If I may," Beckett queried drily. "I must inform you that my man Mercer is awaiting news from me. If I do not send word to him tonight he will act. Forgive me gentlemen but he will think the worst if I do not tell him all is well. I dare say that you do not want to imagine the kind of hell he might be inclined to unleash under such circumstances. A writ from the king in a few days time may assail him as he is a servant of the crown, but to hear of my incarceration without the correct authority will only exasperate him. I do encourage you to decide upon waiting before impeaching your punishment. After all, I do hold the whole island's fate in my hands. If anything were to happen to me I do not like to consider what may happen. Just think gentlemen of all the gunpowder seated in your harbour, of the barrels of it stored at Fort Charles and I dare say beneath every house of good standing in it's cellar."

"That settles it. Commodore, we await the earl's attendance before we act. We shall do things properly or not at all!"

"But sir," Gillette questioned. "Miss O'Connell has clearly been assaulted. That is grounds enough surely for-"

Governor Swann waved a hand before him for silence. "Under any other circumstances lieutenant I would be inclined to agree with you! Unfortunately tonight I think differently. Gentlemen, stand down. Lord Beckett may leave this house unaided and unhindered. My lord, I suggest you take your leave before one of these gentlemen manages to change my mind!"

With one last parting sneer at me, Beckett was gone, taking his leave of the house while James's men fought not to prevent him from doing so. The mood of the room changed swiftly from danger and animosity to sheer anxiety and dismay. James turned his attention to me once more as if to try and distract him from following Beckett. His hand gripped my arm swiftly. Pulling a chair free from the table he spun it around and tried to usher me into it. "Here, take a seat and-"

I jerked away from him, shaking my head at the same time. I finally managed to find my voice as his hand reached for the wound at my neck again. "I'm sure...Mary will have something she can put on this. I'll go and find her."

I can't remember seeing Elizabeth slipping into the room but somehow she was there. "I'll go after her," I heard her declare to James as I moved past her and fled the room, ignoring all of the shocked stares. I couldn't bear to stay in that room with all of that pent up anger and emotion when I was experiencing so much of it myself.

"No, perhaps she needs a few minutes alone with her thoughts." James strode to the door and watched me taking the stairs two at a time until I vanished around a corner and out of sight. "I've seen that look in her eyes before...as if she's..."

"Spooked by something?" suggested Elizabeth.

"Very much so."

I didn't go in search of Mary as I'd said I would. I did not even retreat to the solace of Elizabeth's private library. Instead I returned to the room I'd been calling my own for some days and slammed the door behind me. I leaned against it and tried to catch my breath for the longest time. My chest still felt tight, as if someone were sitting right upon it. I think it was recalling with clarity what had happened to Mick and my friends that had made me so tearful and I tried to mop them up with my sleeves as I slowly made my way around the room, stumbling into the spindly furniture as I went. I only stopped when I reached the fireplace and I grabbed a poker to stoke it to life again. Sitting before the heat should have been comforting after facing such a cold hearted and evil soul but it did little for me in those next few moments. I don't recall standing again likely because my emotions were all over the place but somehow Mick's last log book found it's way into my hands and I was flicking through the pages, his handwriting strangely making me feel closer to him.

When I heard the sound of the door gingerly creaking open I expected to hear Mary admonishing me in some way, coming at me with copious amounts of linen bandages that I didn't want or need but instead there was only sure footfalls marching across the wooden floor, telling me exactly who had occupied the space. I can't really recall if I was pleased or dismayed that James had come to find me. He said nothing at first, simply moving as gracefully as he had done earlier that day in sitting down at my side. He faced the room whilst I faced away from it and I wondered why he chose such a position until I felt his eyes scouring every inch of my face. Still looking at the fire, I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. All that I thought he would see was weakness and I didn't want to show him that.

Instead I began with a question before he could bring up what had occurred downstairs. "You had something planned for tonight then? Will you not tell me what it was?"

James nodded slowly. "I believed that Beckett would attend the governor's ball if for no other reason than to observe us all. I was right. I had an arrangement in place for myself and my officers to be seen clearly at the ball for some time before we made our escape. In the throng Beckett and his men would not have noticed so late on in the evening that we had taken our leave. I wanted to search his office." I could feel his eyes on my hands as they still flicked through the pages of the log book absentmindedly. "You will no doubt recall that a few days ago I told you we recovered that log book you have there and some others aboard _The Grace_. I had deduced that some were missing. We found at least one of them tonight."

I don't know how I'd guessed it's contents but I suppose it was the anxious nerves that were letting me think the very worst. "Shall I hazard a guess that I know which one you've found. The log book that Beckett had...was it dated from around the time I joined Mick?"

James's eyes were upon the side of my face then, watching me intently. "Perhaps I should have brought it upstairs to show you. Gillette has care of it at present. The question is, why on earth did Beckett take that one and no others?"

I was shaking my head in bewilderment. To be honest I think you could have asked me what colour the sky was in that moment and I'd have struggled to answer. My brain had almost turned to mush because it was so addled by all that had come to pass in only a few hours. "It's all a game to him isn't it? He knew who I was all along. Why though? Why am I so interesting to him? I'm nothing, a nobody. None of this makes any sense. I snapped the book closed and dropped it to the floor. I rubbed my hands over my tired eyes, frustration finally winning out.

"What happened downstairs; was it perhaps like what happened a few days ago at the top of the stairs? A kind of suspension of thought and perhaps a little panic? You are still struggling to catch a breath."

I think I'd convinced myself it was the heat of the fire that was stealing my breath from me. I gave in to temptation and turned and met his eyes to find them not softened slightly by the quiet and intimate moment between us but still very much dark and stormy. "No, that is; that's how I feel now but a few days ago... that was different. It was more hopeful than anything. Downstairs though, that man..." I shuddered and looked away again. Staring into the fire, I decided on transparency. I'd tell James how I felt and hope that he'd not dwell too much upon what Beckett and I had discussed. My decision was made, and I just had to protect James for three days before I left. I steeled myself for the struggle I'd have in exposing my feelings and ploughed into speech before I could change my mind. "It brought it all back, seeing Beckett in the flesh. What happened to Mick...I could see it all again before my eyes..." The tears were flowing freely again and I couldn't stop them. "It's like I locked all of that away somewhere in my mind because it was too painful to remember and now it's all here again before my eyes like some sick theatre show that I can't turn away from."

James's hand landed firmly on my shoulder then, resting on top of my scar. I cried silently, bringing my legs up so that I could rest my chin on my knees. I wrapped my arms around myself to stop my hands reaching for James. In that moment to be honest I wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch, to be held by him. It was that notion I'd had before, of wanting comfort. I'd not been held in such a long time. I wanted someone to hug me as my mother and father had done, with love and affection and comfort. I wanted it so badly that my heart ached and yet it was something I could never have from James. It was not so much that it was James himself I wanted comfort from because I loved him really. It was the simple fact that he had been through something so very similar to what I had. He was one of only a very few people in the world who could understand my pain. As if after what we'd both experienced separately, life had thrown us together in the cruellest way to show me what I could never have even though it was the greatest desire of my heart. The pain then was worse than any knee injury or shoulder wound. It was like a thousand knives piercing my heart as I fought with every fibre of my being not to lower my head and lay it on his shoulder. We were sitting so close together that I could smell him, sense his still shaking hands as his anger continued to course through his veins. I think it's truly the hardest thing I'd ever had to do, you know. Beckett was right though. James was destined for greatness and I would only hold him back. I'd known that myself all along of course but I think I could pretend it wasn't entirely real when it was just me thinking it in secret. To hear someone else say it though made it all the more real. I at least managed not to sob uncontrollably like some wailing mourner at a wake but the tears fell unabashedly because I could not stop them.

For an age we sat that way and James says it was because he thought I needed the company. He says he did not want to leave me at all even as his hand finally loosened it's grip of my shoulder and he pulled from his pocket a handkerchief to dab at the wound on my neck. "You need to take care of this, and then you need to try and get some rest. You are overwrought. There is no sense in discussion now. We will speak tomorrow, when you are ready. For now, just try and sleep. I shall not return to my home tonight. I've asked Mrs. Turner to make ready a room down the hall for me." I nodded slowly as he removed the handkerchief. My wound didn't even smart any more but there was more blood on the silk than I'd anticipated. My eyes met James's then as I felt his pointed stare. "I'll be two doors down the hallway, that's all."

I nodded my understanding again, this time fully aware that he was promising comfort if I needed it. Of course at the time thinking of such such comfort was painful for I thought James would never be able to offer me the kind that I so needed from him. He stood as gracefully as he had sat and moved away from me, his hand giving my shoulder one last squeeze before his touch vanished, leaving me feeling bereft even though he had not yet left the room. I turned to watch him as he went. He stopped briefly to place the blade he'd taken from me earlier on one of Elizabeth's silly little tables before he was gone, shutting the door quietly behind him. I stood then too and threw myself into the cavernous bed, not bothering to clean the cut on my neck or remove any of my clothes. I had so much to think on but to be honest I kept telling myself until I fell asleep that I had three days within which I could come to terms with it all.

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 _ **In the next chapter, will Fiona be able to resist the temptation of James being so close at hand?**_


	52. Chapter Fifty Two - Midnight wanders

_**Thank you to the guests for the reviews! We're now back to the chapters in this story that I love writing. James and Fiona together...**_

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 ** _Chapter Fifty Two - Midnight Wanders_**

I think I perhaps lay for an hour or so in that weird restless state between wakefulness and sleep, disturbed by images from that night aboard _The Grace_ when that storm had broken. Each time I closed my eyes and settled onto the pillows the faces of my late friends would swim before my closed eyelids, Mick's the most prominent of them all. I could hear the sound of the guns, smell the sulphur in the air as it moved with the power of the shots. My shoulder scar prickled painfully as it had not done for months and it once crossed my mind that perhaps it had after all that time become infected in some way. I considered that it could be a fever that I was experiencing but I think that was rather a foolish notion. My wound was healed entirely, a mottled scar the only evidence that I'd suffered in any way. No, there was little chance of infection unless the wound had re-opened. I also foolishly contemplated the blade that Beckett had used to graze my neck earlier that evening. Could he have coated the blade in something to bring about illness of some kind?

I forced myself to banish all paranoid thoughts and concentrate on the real and true matters at hand. Beckett clearly needed me alive as a bargaining chip but was I to believe him when he said he would not hand me over to my uncle? He also wanted to ensure that James would toe the line. My leaving would ensure that, he seemed to think. I knew I'd have to leave and now it appeared that I had no option but to walk straight into a world where my uncle was at large. I would do it readily because I now understood that was what it would take to save those who had gone out of their way to aid me. Most of all, I was concerned with James's future. I was already resigned to the fact that we would lead separate lives once I plucked up the courage to walk away from James. Now though, the future that I was so sure he was destined to have was in jeopardy. I had always known he was destined for great things and he deserved to have them. He deserved to have the world at his feet. If I did not leave him, Beckett could strip from James all that he held dear. I could only imagine the suffering James might face if Elizabeth and her family were in danger. In the grand scheme I wasn't really changing my already made decision so much. I had already come to terms with the fact that I couldn't live out my life in close proximity to James. Now though I would not get to see Ireland again. I'd not likely get to see anywhere again. Regardless of my uncle's Beckett's plans , I knew exactly what I'd do once I knew that James and his friends were safe again. Strangely it didn't distress me as much as I thought it would. I think I was focusing my mind on the good I'd be doing and the people I was protecting.

I tried to settle my mind once more as I buried myself in the pillows and tried to get some more sleep. I woke again what must have been a short while later with a yelp. Yet again my mind had been invaded by faces from that night aboard _The Grace_. This time though, it was the cold grey eyes of Beckett that haunted me, tearing apart any resolve I'd built up over the last few days. It felt as if he was wrenching the shot from my shoulder again. I rolled my shoulder backwards and forwards but the pain didn't shift. I hadn't really expected it to. It was all in my mind really. The candle had burnt down to the wick leaving me in relative darkness but the room didn't feel as oppressive as it had done earlier that evening. Still I was aware of how alone I was despite the house being more full than it usually was.

 _"I'll be two doors down the hallway, that's all."_

I was on my feet and padding across the room to the door before I really knew what I was doing. Perhaps I had subconsciously decided that I wanted the company and comfort that I would soon be denied. I could partake of it for a short while, to remind myself just why I was going to walk away from the one I loved with all my heart. To be with James again and to recall just how much he'd really done for me would surely bolster my resolve to save him. He deserved every happiness and wealth that there was and I was not someone who could give it to him. I could remove obstacles from his path though.

I opened the door ever so slowly, surprised to see candlelight flickering close by. Gillette and Holmes had set up a make-shift chess station just outside my door and were playing quietly, candles in the wall sconces throwing just enough light on their board for me to see that Gillette still had more black pieces in play than Holmes's white. I'd never learnt to play chess because to be honest my interests lay more in the outdoors or in books. My mother and father always encouraged such pursuits. My mother came from a long line of farmers so she believed it was in my blood and my father although proud of his occupation and his education was aware of how much of his own childhood he had given up to study and wanted me to live life to the full while I was young.

I stepped quietly into the hall and was not sure whether I should interrupt their game or not. I was torn between shuffling on past them and returning to my own room. I knew somehow that they were not there by coincidence. I was being watched. James might have believed and trusted in me but he was also no fool. Perhaps he had his suspicions that Beckett had tried to lure me from the house in some way. If I'd wanted to leave the house though by night even with a guard I knew a few tricks that would suffice and they were perfect for use on a man like Gillette. I thought perhaps even James would fall for them. I had visions of Gillette springing up to push me back into my room if I tried to pass their game so I began to back track even though the prospect of a sleepless and restless night alone in my own room seemed as bleak as the rest of my life was sure to be.

I was saved the suffering of it though by Gillette's sharp turn of the head. His sharp periwinkle eyes met mine curiously before he grinned. "Rather late for a midnight wander isn't it, miss O'Connell?"

I retaliated with a grin of my own to try and have him believing I'd not a worry or a care in the world. If he thought me agitated he might think I was considering making a run for it. "Since when did I need an armed guard? Where is it exactly I'm expected to go? I mean I wouldn't mind a glass or two of whiskey in a nice enough inn somewhere but given my present predicaments I'm inclined to think I'm better off here!"

Gillette only grinned again. He must have known I was not making a run for it that night. I often wonder if Gillette saw something between James and myself even then, if he suspected that I was harbouring feelings for his superior officer. It must have been a strange thing for him to see. He knew better than anyone how cold-hearted James could be when he wanted to. It must have seemed odd to him that someone like myself with a cheery disposition and a wild streak might find James attractive in any way. He turned back to the board then, his attention once more upon the game. Then; after a beat he said, "Two doors down Miss O'Connell."

I watched him for a few seconds as his words sank in. He was sending me to James; or rather he knew I was in search of that man's company. It took a few seconds before I could move my feet but when I did I moved slowly, skirting around their table in the hallway so that I could shuffle past the room next to mine which I now think must have been empty. At the time I think I just assumed Elizabeth and Will occupied it. Propriety would certainly have dictated such a thing but looking back it now seems clear to me that Elizabeth and Will would have wanted their privacy and they would certainly have found it strange to have James staying just one room along from them both. Finally I came to the second door and I stopped. I turned to glance back up the hallway at the two competing officers who appeared to have forsaken me for their game entirely.

It was then that I realised the importance of my next actions. This was no longer a justifiable scenario. We were no longer aboard a ship with limited space or means. This was not about my protection or James's maps and charts. This was not business in any fashion. To knock on that door and enter his room seeking comfort was a crossing of the Rubicon. My heart would be irrevocably changed by such a decision even if nothing were to happen between us. It would mean my feelings and my hopes and wishes were all tied up with him. It would mean that I could no longer deny the strength of my adoration; my love. Even if it were for a few hours only and never to be repeated, it would be seared upon my memory. Wasn't that what I wanted though? To spend time with him as I had done over the last lot of months and cherish those moments we had spent together. It was almost a goodbye of sorts even though James would not know that. It was wrong of course to proceed as if my meeting with Beckett had not changed things between us. I now thought I was James's saviour. I thought he deserved to have the world and in order to give him it I was going to throw my own life away. I'd have to deceive him before the end and it would be excruciating. I knew it would have to be that way in order for him to truly move on with his life. He'd have to forget me entirely, perhaps even hate me enough that he would force himself never to think of me again. I'd have to do so much worse than Elizabeth had done. I'd have to turn him back into the cold creature I met when he captured _The Black Pearl_ with me aboard her.

To proceed was to deceive. To knock on that door and offer up some pretence was wrong in a way because he thought he could trust me. I would only be taking comfort for my own gain. It was all so unfair and yet I thought it was also unfair that I should have to take my leave of him without spending one last evening together as we had done before. I couldn't bring myself to turn away from him when I'd got so much to loose. I would allow myself that one pleasure before I took my leave of him forever because I'd never been able to say goodbye before; not to my mother and father and not to Mick. I'd never been given the chance to tell them how I felt; to tell them that I loved them. Of course I was not about blurt out my innermost feelings to James but I could sit with him and talk for one last time, knowing how I felt in my heart and resigning myself to saying my own private goodbye to him.

I knocked. I sucked in a gasp as I realised there was no turning back and I heard his faint treads as he crossed the room towards the door. He opened it sharply as if expecting someone else, his eyes trained on a spot above my head for a split second before he glanced down and met my own eyes. His expression softened just slightly. Had he been waiting for Gillette to alert him to my attempted escapes or perhaps something even more sinister? Did he think Beckett might try to find a way into the house again? He stepped back again, opening the door wide to allow me entry to the room and I took in his appearance as I passed him. It did not once occur to me that he might have been asleep because somehow I just knew he had far too much to contend with to be resting at such an hour. He might be of a rank that afforded him a few luxuries but relaxation was not one of them. He understood very well what he faced and embraced the stressful challenges because he had trained for it all his life. Perhaps he had been bread for it. Despite knowing all of that, I was surprised to find him no longer fully dressed. He was once again attired in only his breaches, boots and shirt. His waistcoat and great coat were gone as were the hat and wig that embodied to me the side of him that I knew to be imposing and resolute. The naval man who was responsible for so much and yet could cut you down with only a glance or a sharp word or two was still a part of him but I found that I recognised so many different sides of him now. I knew that he had always had heart for he had blamed himself terribly for the deaths of his men when _The Dauntless_ sank. He still does attribute blame only to himself in that regard. He felt he was responsible for every single life aboard that ship. There are times when I wonder about the man I came to love. How could he have been anything else in the world other than a naval commander? He had the decency, the respect and the discipline to succeed in any walk of life certainly but there was something more there in both his head and his heart that told me he could only ever have served upon the sea. I'm sure that was part of my attraction to him. In fact, it still is.

Being presented with this slightly softened version of the man I had come to adore was rather overwhelming as ever. Dishevelled and disrobed as he was he appeared all the more dangerous. Not that I ever felt particularly threatened by the man in truth but I felt like I was glimpsing a version of him that only a very select few ever had. It was his openness with me that was dangerous. It only solidified my belief that for me there really was something there I longed to call my own. His rolled up sleeves of his shirt and the open collar of his normally buttoned shirt showed more skin than anyone else ever got to see. His soft brown hair pulled back from his face served to remind me that he was still very much human; still very much a man. The icy marble statue that I'd first met could thaw so easily into a creature full of heart and kindness and truth. It was all a heady mixture of desire and fear for me in those few seconds. I wanted it all so much more than I had ever anticipated and yet I was so terrified of allowing it to happen. Even if he were to want me in anything like the way I wanted him, I was so sure that he'd quickly forget me and return to Elizabeth's side that I began to regret coming to his room entirely. It was done though. I was past the point of no return and now had to guard my heart.

When I had slowly inched inside the room he closed the door behind me, cutting the space between us in a few short strides. "Trouble sleeping?" he asked me carefully.

His eyes tore the breath from my lungs. They were so bright and beautiful in the flickering firelight that it took me a few seconds to realise that he had spoken. He was gazing at me so intently that I struggled to find the words to reply. I settled for a nod as his eyes began to rove over my face and I realised I probably looked a fright. "...You could say that," I mumbled.

He gestured for me to move further into the room and I did. "Take a seat." I perched gingerly on a chair that sat at a small round table before the fire, making a conscious effort to smooth down my hair. That was all the improvement I felt I could conspicuously make. To pluck my cheeks to bring up a little colour there might have been a little too much for the moment. He'd evidently been trying to occupy himself with the paperwork littered over the table surface. If I'd been more of my right mind I might have taken a few sneaked glances at it all but I felt strangely transfixed by him. He was watching me where I sat for a few moments before he reached for something on the sideboard and moved closer. I thought James's eyes had been upon my hair but as he reached my side I realised he had noticed the cut on my neck again.

"Here..." I thought he was offering me a damp handkerchief to clean it with and reached up to take it from him in time for my fingers to brush against his as he reached forward and threw my hair back over my shoulder out of the way. "This needs taken care of." I let my hand drop again to my lap, still a little overwhelmed at his familiar action and his close proximity to me. I'd not given the wound a second thought but James says it was still coated by dried blood when he began to clean it. When he'd siphoned most of it away he retreated again and I stole a hasty breath of air. I watched him soak a new cloth with brandy from the decanter and return to my side. His touch was feather light but even that sent my pulse racing. I winced as the alcohol soaked cloth made contact with my skin but I didn't pull away from his touch. How could I have done when he was like a drug to me. Knowing it would be the last was painful but I knew I couldn't let my resolve weaken. Whatever side of himself that he might present to me, I still had to leave him to save his life.

At long last James seemed satisfied that the wound was clean and he stepped back to discard the cloth. When he returned to me he was carrying one of Mick's log books. "The one you found earlier?" I asked him as he slid it across the table towards me.

"Yes. I thought you might want to see it." He reached for the decanter again and two glasses, bringing them to the table also. "There's no whiskey to be had in this house so will brandy suffice? It might help you to sleep?"

"Alright," I shrugged, thinking little at all of the offered drink. My eyes were on the leather bound cover of the log book. I don't quite know what kind of shocking and sordid things I expected to find hidden there in Mick's handwriting if I'm honest. I had known even without ever paying much attention to his log books that he was careful what he put in writing but there was a niggling worry within me that he had not always been so. What if he'd been a little more relaxed about things before I had joined him. How would he have recorded his first ever meeting with me. I let the book fall open on the table before me as James took the seat opposite and scanned the first lot of pages until I began to recognise some of the goings on as things that Mick had told me about; things that happened in the weeks leading up to my first voyage upon the sea. Whilst the stories I knew well, the dates were not something I was well versed in. Back then I'd not known dates or days because it was all such a whirlwind. Later on after my first few weeks with Mick I'd finally felt free and safe enough to let my mind relax a little. Then it felt as if time came back to me a little more and I was able to enjoy life without stress and fear eating away at my insides. As I realised I was about to read about my own arrival I felt my pulse quicken again in anticipation. Whatever it was Mick had wrote, I was about to see it for the first time. Would I be disappointed in his first opinions of me or would they make me laugh? I had no real notion of what Mick thought of me that day other than that he wanted to help me if he could. Even then he might have thought I was a complete lost cause.

I sucked in a deep breath and turned the page in search of the next day's entry only to find it gone. "What?" I cried as my fingers reached out instinctively to trace the torn paper stumps where a clump of the book's pages had clearly been torn from it in a hurry. I flicked through the remaining pages at the back of the book to find my name mentioned a few times in the odd description of the goings on aboard _The Grace_ but that was nothing of consequence. The whole period of my joining Mick's crew and learning the ropes had been removed.

"I did wonder if you knew about that," James supplied from the other side of the table. "So we can assume that Beckett has taken those pages. Although I can't think why he wouldn't have just kept the whole book."

I was shaking my head then, a soft smile forming on my lips. "I don't know commodore. I think there's just as much chance that Mick did this. I don't think he realised who his stowaway was in the first few weeks really. Well that is he made me tell him my name and why I'd run but I don't think he realised how dangerous a man my uncle was. Perhaps when he did realise he tore the pages from the book and they disintegrated when he tossed them overboard. At least I hope that's what happened."

"It would be a blessing," James agreed, "But all the same, Beckett has little need of them really. He appears to know more about you than perhaps I do." It was a sobering thought that sent a frisson of panic up my spine. I didn't need reminding that Beckett appeared to know me better than I did myself but to have someone else admit it made it seem all the more real and pressing. I think perhaps James noticed my sudden alarm for he swung the conversation so expertly that I was forced to think of something else entirely. "It is a shame in more ways than one that the pages are missing. Indeed if captain O'Malley did dispose of them, I think he did the right thing. I must confess however that I was intrigued to read his synopsis of how you came to be sailing with him. That's not something you've yet disclosed to me."

I was comforted by his swift change of conversation topic as well as pleased to be able to recall a happier time in my life. "Well I think we left off with me on that beach and deciding that I was going to set off in search of my own future?" James nodded his agreement." I walked until I found a port. I'd stolen some clothing that I'd found hanging outside someone's home. I didn't think they'd mind so much as there was a lot of clothing hanging to dry in that fierce wind. Thus I left the beach a young woman and arrived in the port a young boy. I tried for weeks to get a place on a ship. I was a little late to the party if I'm honest. Most of the ships had taken on as many deck hands as they could. Only a clever few were able to deduce that I was a girl within a few moments and sent me packing. No one really asked too many questions though. It's a sorry state of affairs but I suppose it's common for young people to try and make a life for themselves that way. There must be many runaways trying to find a place on ships. I could have fared quite badly if any of those captains had an appetite to match my uncles. I've always been so grateful to find Mick. He was the first to ask questions, to tell me as soon as I set foot into his cabin that day to take my hat off. He knew I was a girl right away. I remember feeling quite disappointed that my disguise had failed. I thought I passed quite well as a young boy considering I'd been sleeping rough for a good few weeks. With my hair tucked away underneath my hat I thought there was nothing to give me away."

"And yet he still found you out," James mused as he offered a small smile. He'd poured brandy into the two glasses before us while I talked and he reached for his to drink slowly before he spoke again. "Although I do not imagine it to be a great feat. Indeed I think it a wonder that more people didn't find you out."

"I was pale and far skinnier than I am now," I supplied. "With boys clothing and my hair hidden I thought I looked every inch the potential runaway deck-hand."

I watched as James tilted his head to the side a little, observing me closely over the rim of his brandy glass. "No indeed Miss Fiona I think even with your hair concealed you would have been a good deal far too pretty to be considered boyish. I'm willing to bet all those captains that turned you down simply thought it too much hassle to go about declaring to know you for what you really were. Young women aboard ships are thought to be tantamount to destruction in most parts after all. It was more than likely easier to send you on your way quickly. I wonder then at O'Malley taking you on. I know he was the decent sort but being a clever enough fellow, he must have known the kind of trouble he might face with a woman aboard."

"I wasn't presenting as trouble; at least not at first!" I quipped in reply, my indignation rising a little even though I knew James meant no harm in his words.

He shook his head at me. "You misunderstand me. What I meant is that even a captain confident of his own crew's decency would face more than a few worries about letting a woman join his crew. Weeks and months at sea potentially without making port can place strain even upon the most respectable of men. O'Malley had to know he would be spending most of his time ensuring your own safety from his crew before he gave thought to any other pressing matters. I've seen what becomes of men who've been away from home too long. There are some who become an altered version of themselves, so much so that any goodness of heart that they carried within themselves takes flight. I have no doubt you will have conducted yourself respectfully aboard _The Grace_ , for you did so aboard _The Surgence_. For some men knowledge of your presence might have been enough. Either O'Malley really did trust his crew or he certainly trusted himself enough to keep you from harm."

"The crew were trustworthy," I replied. "They were all good men. We were quite an odd bunch to be sure. We'd all come from different walks of life and were all searching for an escape. We all became a family because we had that in common. I don't think Mick can have had much of a worry about his crew at all. If he did he never told me."

"You were sixteen. He would not have wanted to frighten you with such notions, I'm sure."

I shrugged. "There was no need for worry anyway. I flourished under Mick's care. Mick made me tell him that first day what I was really running from. He said he'd only help me if I was honest with him. I was because to be honest I was tired of the running and of the secrecy. I'd only just taken my life back from those three horrid old women and I wasn't about to trample all over it again with lies. There I concocted my cover with Mick. My name changed of course but apart from that I stuck as closely to the truth as possible. It was easier that way. Mick forbid me to dress as a boy. He said I was to present myself as honestly as possible. I think he kind of thought of his motley crew as something of a secret army. He wanted them to know I was a young woman running from something as they were. Mick was clever enough to know his men would take me into their hearts and care for me as they might a daughter. He thought they'd offer a ring of protection. It all happened so quickly that I knew I was at home in no time. I'd planned on bartering passage and then perhaps travelling some distant land but I became such better version of myself that I never wanted to leave _The Grace._ I would have lived out the rest of my days that way."

Again I had come full circle to how things had ended, how my friends had perished. I shook myself in an attempt to get rid of the icy cold sensation that gripped my chest. It was not something I was prepared to discuss with James in what would more than likely be our last private moments together. I reached for my glass of brandy finally, letting the liquid warm my insides as I drained the glass in one and replaced it to the table again. James reached forward with the decanter and refilled my glass.

"Perhaps Miss Fiona you might do me the courtesy of telling me what it was you discussed with Cutler Beckett. I can be in no doubt, knowing your temperament as well as I do that it was a heated conversation. I should like to know what was said in case any information that he gave you may be of some importance? I should like to decipher his plans and also to ensure that he did not try to coerce you into anything untoward."

I raised a brow at him, my instincts screaming at me so loudly in my mind that I knew I had to buy myself the time to decide what to do. Unfortunately for James, he'd already made a mistake in thinking I was the only one with information to disclose. "You are a clever enough man commodore to know that I was not the only one of us to speak with Beckett today...or yesterday it would be now I suppose. Perhaps you might first disclose the details of your meeting with Beckett this morning so that we might better understand the events that occurred later on."

James grimaced a little as he realised he had been caught out but then he smiled at me, as if pleased somehow that I'd caught him out. What I did not know however, was whether he was going to grant my request.

* * *

 _ **In the next chapter, the scene continues...**_

 _ **Please leave a review and let me know what you think! It would be great to know that people are still reading!**_


	53. Chapter Fifty Three - Point of No Return

_**Thank you as ever to the guests for the reviews! In this chapter we find out how Fiona handles trying to tell James the truth without really letting him know at all...**_

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 _ **Chapter Fifty Three - Point of No Return**_

It seemed to take James a few moments to make his decision but he says he knew he was going to tell me the truth long before we sat down together. He thought that I had a right to know even if I did react badly. It was a mark of his trust of me that even after my mental wobble earlier on he still proceeded with his explanation of his and Beckett's conversation earlier that day. I think his only concern must have been how to place his words. What was immediately clear to me from James's explanation was that Beckett's attempt to usurp power was far more grave than I'd anticipated. He certainly meant business. As had been agreed, I then proceeded to tell James about my own encounter with Beckett. Perhaps you will have guessed as much already but I decided not to tell James about my uncle being so close at hand. I did not know what his reaction might be and I certainly didn't want to give that man any more of my thoughts that night. Everything else I told James was the truth. I had an inkling that if James thought my uncle was near he might consider me a flight risk. Of course that was true but it had more to do with Beckett really. Did I think that if it were my uncle alone that we had to contend with, that James would be able to protect me adequately? Yes, I did. In short I recalled the anger and the frustration I'd seen in James's eyes when I'd first told him about why I'd really run from my uncle. Most definitely he would have kept me from harm to the best of his ability. It seemed somehow easier therefore to tell him that Beckett had propositioned me, to make sure that James was aware of all the facts regarding Beckett's plans. In the long run I didn't consider my uncle to be of much importance in Beckett's plans and I would come to regret such thoughts. I wanted James to be able to fight his corner adequately though even after I was gone. I wanted so badly for him to get everything that he desired in the world because I felt he deserved it. I'd play my part to get Beckett off his back but James needed to know that Beckett wasn't going to go quietly.

James appeared appalled by Beckett's open proposition to me. "I do believe that man takes a great pleasure in instigating fear and terror in others," James supplied thinly. "I do hope Fiona that you gave what he said very little thought. You cannot think he would simply allow you to roam free were you to leave Port Royal. Indeed even if I knew what he said to be wholly true I would still discourage such an action. I am inclined to think that I see a decided change in you since you came here to stay. You are well rested and I am glad that recent events have not dampened your spirit. I would heartily like you to stay here for as long as you wish. Of course I cannot make such a decision for you but I should like to encourage it. Overall governor Swann is pleased to have you as a guest. He exclaims that you are of remarkably little trouble at all. Indeed I think he enjoys your open conversation and your dry wit. The Turners too are taken with you, Elizabeth in particular. Perhaps she does consider you her new project of sorts but you must not let her push you so. I do believe she would benefit from your friendship though. I have known her for so many years and she has never really had a confidante her own age. I think together the two of you are quite a formidable force. I should think they would be very glad to have you if you wished to stay. Indeed I think Elizabeth may be quite bereft without you. She's rather come into her own in her careful and attentive care of you. It would be a shame to cut such a friendship off at it's beginning.

I shrugged. I was a little lost for the words to provide an explanation for why I wanted to leave. Perhaps that was for the best. James had made it very clear that he wanted me to stay in Port Royal and I did not want to disappoint him. As I had previously decided, it was better for me to leave with him thinking the best of me. Even if he did grow to hate me ever so swiftly, it would be better for all if he thought I was compliant for the time being. It would make leaving that much easier. "They've certainly all been very kind to me," I mused before taking another sip of brandy. "Of course if it were simply up to me I should like to stay very much. I think it's something that deserves consideration, but now is not the time."

James nodded gravely. "No you are right, now is not the time." He was silent for a few moments and appeared deep in thought before he raised a finger and pointed it at me. "You are not to worry about Beckett and his strange propositions. With any luck, in a few days he will be gone. I cannot imagine he will wish to remain in Port Royal for his peers and betters to observe his removal from office. I should think there is only perhaps a day or two of his tyranny left before he makes himself scarce. It is a shame for the man deserves to face real justice for his crimes. Whilst free he may go off and do God knows what; God knows where. I am sorry that by way of his presence you have been forced to relieve what for you are likely some of the most harrowing memories of your life. Beckett's treatment of you is abominable, not to mention the deaths of your friends. I will find a way for him to face justice Miss O'Connell. It may not be in Port Royal to assuage governor Swann's fears but rest assured I will act. I do not like the thought of you worrying so. Understand that I am making you a solemn promise."

It was as if he thought he could read my mind by gazing into my eyes so intently. I could not have doubted him in the slightest. He meant business and yet all the same I was more resolved to leave than ever. I subconsciously rubbed at my shoulder wound as a stinging sensation ripped through it again. It was as if thinking of what had befallen Mick and the others was bringing about such pain. Cutler Beckett certainly had a lot to answer for where I was concerned but Mick was no longer with me and James was. I had to keep thinking about what was most important to me in the here and now.

James had noticed my movements. I felt his gaze on my shoulder then even after I'd lowered my hand to the table again. "Does it bother you overly much? I had not noticed you paying much attention to that wound in quite some time."

I shook my head. "Strange really. I think it was Beckett that brought it about, being so close to him after what he did. It's like it was my body's way of reminding me that he's dangerous. For a few moments earlier I did wonder if it could be infected but that is foolish. It's been healed for such a good while and it's never given me bother before now."

"You know," James supplied as he leaned back in his chair, offering me yet another seemingly unnatural insight into the closed off man, "I never did mention it in the beginning for we were not entirely upon friendly terms but I've seen better sailors than you succumb to such a wound whether it be literally or figuratively. Physically you are strong which enabled your quick recovery but you have a mental strength that propelled you into hard work and resilience. Those without the physical strength to match would crumble at such a hurdle. In short Miss Fiona you do not give yourself an easy time of it but so far that has benefited you well. You should be careful of such a trait though. It may well cause you suffering in the future. For the most part I am inclined to think you know your own limits but you should be wary that you do not overwork yourself. Speaking of injuries, how does that knee of yours fare?"

I glanced down towards my knees, stretching my injured leg out a little to revel in the lack of stiffness there. "Mary's been taking good care of me. Her compresses seem to be doing the trick quite nicely."

"I'm glad," James returned swiftly. "But you must let us know if there is anything you require for it. It would not do to leave such an injury to it's own devices."

I didn't feel the need to mention the fact that I'd been content to let my injury fester for six long years. I'd been getting by just fine without James's intervention and would do so in future. I wasn't going to have the resourceful Mary around to make me compresses every night wherever I ended up. Granted, I was comfortable and well taken care of in the governor's home but it was not the life I was destined for. I had no doubt that wherever it was I ended up in future, I wouldn't have such liberties as compresses and copious cups of floral and herbal tea. Yet again I faced sobering thoughts. Was Beckett really going to let me just walk away? If he did I'd have to find passage on a ship and one going in the right direction too. As long as we travelled towards France or Spain I could make further plans once I was closer to home but getting used to a new crew was not something I was looking forward to. How was I to trust anyone again? Then I realised that perhaps not trusting anyone was the way forward. I could close myself off from the world so easily, but did I want to? Those first few weeks aboard _The Surgence_ just after Mick's death had been hell on earth. Grief had almost torn me apart before I discovered that I rather enjoyed disobeying James's orders. I didn't want to sink to those depths again where I neither cared whether I lived or died. How was I to keep the darkness at bay if I could not trust a single soul?

I shivered despite the fire still crackling in the grate behind me and James sighed heavily. "I see I have overtired you once more Miss Fiona. Will you not entrust to me what it is that instils so much fear in you? Will you not allow me to carry the burden if only for a little while? I feel as though I have at certain points been the catalyst of your grief. I would not have you still suffering when to you this house and this town should be a place of rest and recuperation."

I shook my head wanly, determined to appear indifferent to such a line of questioning but my eyes snagged on his disbelieving ones. They told me that he knew somehow that my heart ached like it never had before. Instead of telling him the real truth; that I longed to throw myself across the table at him and spend an eternity encased in the safety of his arms I elected to distract and manipulate as only a woman can. "You know what it is I fear; a cage. My uncle's cage to be exact. Each day I've spent here has been a wonderful rest but I've spent the last six years looking over my shoulder for my uncle, commodore. It's not a habit one can easily break. I know the kind of man he is. Walls and fences and men with muskets wouldn't be enough to keep him out of a house like this if he wished to enter it. I always feel like he's hovering over my shoulder somewhere, just waiting for one of my more peaceful moments to pounce."

"Miss Fiona, he poses no risk to you all the way from London." James's ignorance of my uncle's true whereabouts must have been bliss. I cast my eyes down to my lap and let the waves of real fear wash over me. Of course I'd told him no lies. I truly did fear my uncle so, but I usually forced such thoughts to the back of my mind because I thought they showed only weakness. It seemed the perfect time to unleash them, to distract James. I still feel bad for manipulating him so but what else could I have done. He was too clever to be distracted by anything else but a woman in distress and pain is always the way to a decent man's heart. I wasn't lying to him, but I was using the truth in a way that shamed me.

James took my shame for upset and he leaned across the table to take one of my hands in his. The movement was so unexpected and sudden that I did not have time to tear my hand out of his reach. His hand held mine firmly and I could sense him ducking his head to try and catch my eyes. I glanced up at him because he deserved my attention. "Miss Fiona, do not think for a second that I take such fears lightly. I understand that you know and comprehend the appetites of your uncle better than anyone else. I do not wish to demean your fears but I want you to know that you have no need of them. Your uncle cannot touch you here. I will not allow it. I know that seems a rather foolish statement to make before you now after this evenings events but I'm afraid I had an inkling that Beckett might try to gain entry to this house to speak with you. I wanted to know if he would play his hand. He did and he was caught in the act. Now I have the means with which to dispose of his authority. Perhaps you will say I used you ill. I would agree with such a statement but I would not take back my actions. Yes, I let Beckett enter this house tonight because I did not believe that he would harm you. To him you are a curiosity. If I had known..." His hand left mine and travelled up to gently brush against the cut on my neck before he took my hand again. "Had I known this would have happened I would not have permitted him to enter the house. I am sorry, truly. I am also sorry that I have clearly made you feel unsafe here. I should have considered that."

The cogs were turning in my mind and I wondered why I had not thought of that all before. I smiled softly at him, dearly wanting to pull my hand free because to feel it encased in his felt glorious. He tells me all the time that he felt so terrible for deceiving me. I think he thought my initial reaction would be anger but to be honest I'd known he was up to something; I just hadn't known exactly what it was. "I would probably have done the same thing commodore. You must use every tool in your arsenal to outwit that man. I see why you would want to entice him here to catch him out. You thought tonight might might have been the end of all things. You thought governor Swann might treat such a breaking and entering with more acerbity. sadly it was not to be, but I still think Beckett will feel slightly more unstable now."

"You are no tool Fiona. I have never once considered you thus. I apologise profusely for what I have put you through this night. If I may, I think that your uncle's treatment of you has warped your own sense of yourself. You are no tool or chess piece. You are no shield either. You are the sword. You are a kind and decent young woman with a good heart. If you had not loved your friends as you did, do you think you would have grieved so keenly for them all? Would you have fought to bring them justice so fiercely? I understand the anger and the sadness you feel for I too have experienced it. You are lucky in the sense that although you blame yourself, there is no blame whatsoever that anyone could actually attribute to you. I wished for you to meet with Beckett in a controlled environment, to have your say without fearing danger. I was not wrong to want that for you but I was wrong to use you so. I did not consider the aftermath of it all or how deeply the deaths of your friends still affect you. Even now you offer only understanding. How is it that after all you've suffered, kindness forces you to see the good everywhere still?"

"There's no force commodore." I slipped my hand ever so slowly out of his and made to stand, very aware of my rapidly beating heart. "I meant what I said. I would probably have done the same thing and you have nothing to apologise for. I am glad I got to face Beckett. It has made things so much clearer for me. I know what my life's about now. I do not like the idea of you chastising yourself over something and nothing. I do think I shall say that I should have liked some fair warning. I might have been able to settle my nerves before I spoke with that man, but it makes little matter now. I just thought you'd have trusted me with the information."

I was moving towards the door then. "I do trust you Fiona, and I trust your instincts. I wanted him to see the fight and the anger inside you which would not have surfaced if you were better prepared. I wanted him to feel your wrath. I thought you deserved to unleash it upon him. I do see how that might come across as untrustworthy in your eyes, but I had only good intentions." My hand was on the door knob. "Do you return to your own room?"

I shook my head. "I don't think there's much sleep to be had tonight commodore. I think I'll go and raid Elizabeth's library until it's light. I'm sure she won't mind."

He says he heard something in my voice. James thought it was exhaustion, fear and perhaps even grief that he heard. I think it could have been those things but to be honest I think it was more the beginnings of heartbreak. I'd felt it first as a young woman when first my father died and then when I realised my mother too was gone from the world. I also experienced it after the deaths of everyone aboard _The Grace_. I think in my mind I had come to associate heartbreak with death. Perhaps that was why I'd been in such contempt of Elizabeth before I met her. I didn't really understand why she'd given up a life with James.

I was just opening the door when I sensed his movement behind me. "No, you are exhausted." He stalked across the room then, his boots clipping the floor as he went. He took a candle to the bedside table and tore back the counterpane of the fourposter bed that was much larger than the one I had slept in. Evidently this room was for male visitors with it's dark hangings and drapes. "Take my bed if you will. Perhaps with company you will settle a little better."

I closed the door gently again only because I did not wish our conversation to carry up the hallway to James's officers. "But then where will you sleep?" I won't deny that I felt such a longing to take up his offer but would it really be the best thing for me when I was trying to place distance between us both?

"I have paperwork to finish," James replied as he gestured to the parchment still scattered across the table. "And when it comes to it there is move than enough room on the couch."

I turned towards the other side of the room where sure enough a long couch of dark forest green velvet ran the length of the wall there. Although James's tall and thinner frame would likely fit the couch very well I wondered how comfortable it would really be for him if he was trying to get some sleep. I considered that I too might feel a little uncomfortable with such a plan but for entirely different reasons. The last time he'd offered me his bed he had done so in order to protect me from the rabble that was his crew. There was no way of knowing what might have happened to me that night if James hadn't done so. Whilst there was certainly still a danger outside the walls of the house, there was not so much an immediate one as to require him to make such an offer in that moment. Yet despite all of that and despite the fact that I knew it might only cause me more heartache I sorrily longed to accept his gracious offer. His presence in the room could be enough to banish all of the fear and anguish that coursed through my mind. I might be able to get some sleep without replaying the deaths of my friends over and over again.

Despite the little trick he'd pulled with Beckett I still trusted James. I might have thanked him for some kind of warning but his explanation had been one that I'd understood even if I didn't agree with it. Wasn't that what our friendship had been built on anyway, understanding if not agreement? I trusted him enough at least to know I was more than safe in his room even if I was asleep. He likely wanted to atone for allowing Beckett to slip into the house like that and I suddenly felt bad for him. It was the thought of it eating him up inside that I might be angry or upset at him that had me nodding my head in agreement slowly before I knew that I'd even made my mind up. He wanted to make up for his earlier decisions and I felt I should allow him to because I didn't want to leave with him feeling that he'd wronged me in some way.

"Is it proper though?" I asked as I moved back into the room towards him. "Won't the governor have something to say about it?"

James smiled softly as he stepped back from the bed to allow me to climb into it and pull the thick green coverlet over me. "No one shall know but us. My officers are trustworthy. They will speak of it to no one. Neither shall you or I. Therefore there is no worry to be had for the sake of propriety. Try and get some sleep Miss Fiona. God knows you'll be needing it after the evening you've had."

He was back across the room in an instant, quietly shuffling the papers before him at the table as if I wasn't even there. He was aware I was there alright but I think he just wanted me to feel like he wasn't paying me any attention so that I'd be more comfortable. A sudden thought occurred to me and I raised myself up on one elbow to watch him closely. "Commodore, what about Mr. Hawkins? Did your men catch him outside?"

I thought I should have heard a snapping sound of some kind when James's head turned towards me so quickly. "Hawkins? Whatever do you mean Miss O'Connell?"

"It was Hawkins who provided some distraction outside so that Beckett could enter the house unseen. It seems he had no notion of heading home."

James's eyes flashed with something I didn't quite recognise and I glanced down at the dark counterpane that covered my legs. "I'm afraid not Miss O'Connell. Indeed my men did not spot him. It seems Mr. Hawkins is as wily as they come. This information is important, but there is nought we can act upon now. Hawkins will have gone to ground. So he has switched his allegiance..." James ran a hand through his hair as his eyes left mine and stared off into the distance for a few seconds before he shrugged. It was not a movement I'd ever seen him make before. Indeed he was so well bred that I would have been surprised if his mother had ever seen him shrug. "I must say that I'm not entirely shocked. He was bound to act out in some way. His retaliation will have consequences for him. I will make sure of it. It only makes me wonder what else he may have told Beckett." He fell silent then, his attention upon his paperwork once more, or at least that's what he wanted me to think. I actually thought that the expression of anguish that I could just make out from all the way across the room meant that he was thinking once more of Elizabeth.

I let myself fall back against the pillows as I tried not to cry. These may be the last hours we would spend together and I was not about to spend them all sleeping. This was the point of no return. I felt sure somehow that our remaining time together was to be savoured and cherished so that I might look back upon it in time. It would all serve to remind me why I was making such a sacrifice. James deserved to be happy and free and successful. That was not something that spoke of a future shared. I resolved to stay awake for as long as I could, breathing in the smell of him and listening intently to the sound of his quill scratching across parchment but within mere moments I'd drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke the next morning the first thing that struck me was how much light there was in the room. Blinking rapidly to save my eyes I searched around at my airy surroundings and realised I was back in my own powder blue room. There was no noise from the rest of the house which confirmed to me then that it was very early still. I knew then that James had evidently moved me back to my own room as the sky began to lighten. Perhaps he'd realised that for us to be found together in one room in such a house might be putting us both in a rather difficult situation. I didn't let myself even consider the fact that in order to have moved me he'd have had to have lifted me in his arms. I didn't want to think about the fact we'd been so close and I'd been asleep the whole time. I did not for one second think he'd have been anything over than a gentleman but I'd have liked to have savoured the memory even after I'd gone away.

* * *

"I know she didn't sleep in her own room last night James." James's head whipped round to take in the sight of Elizabeth stalking towards him across the lawn from the back of the house with a determined expression on her face. "Please do not deny it for I know it to be true. Mary went to check on her through the night. She wanted to be sure Fiona got some rest after what happened. She was worried about her. It appears Fiona was already well taken care of."

"Elizabeth, please-"

"James please do not think me a fool," Elizabeth interrupted him. "Mary will speak of it to no one and neither will I. I'm simply here as a friend to ask you what your intentions are. When we spoke some days ago I rather thought that Fiona had the right to choose her own path and I voiced such an opinion. I still stand by it. You must speak with her James if you intend to make her some kind of offer. You cannot hover around her whilst you plan everything yourself. She's rather headstrong and determined. She will have terms; that's if she accepts of course. My father would have you marry her as soon as the preparations can be made so as to avoid any more controversy and to diminish any threats to you or her. You'd be stronger united. I somewhat agree with him now. If Fiona wishes to accept your offer then I urge you to act."

Elizabeth told me once that she thought for a few seconds that James might pretend he had no idea what she was talking about. Of course the reality is that he'd been thinking of what governor Swann had said to him the first day that he brought me to the house. He'd understood then how such a marriage might protect me but he'd been very conscious of my freedom. He'd thought it over for days, he says. It rankled around his mind and refused to be ignored until he all but sat down and wrote out a list of pros and cons for a marriage between us both. ironically, the only issues that he saw in it all were to do with my own wishes. He was perfectly agreeable to such a match and was loath to admit to Elizabeth or her father but he rather admired the notion. It still baffles me that he thought nothing of himself or his own wants or needs. He did not even think the match an improper one for a man like him. He did not question my upbringing or my religion. He did not care for any of that. It did not matter. All that he cared for was my own happiness and safety. I keep saying it but imagine if I'd known all of this as it unfolded. Perhaps we may have taken an entirely different path.

"I do understand why you are pressing the matter Elizabeth," James began. "There is for me only one mitigating factor. I will not strip her of her freedom in binding her to me. Yes it may protect and shield her for a time but I would not take her liberty from her. The life of a commodore's wife; or any man of any social standing would be the last thing she would choose. She would see it as a cage!"

"Is that the kind of wife you want James? One who stays at home reupholstering chairs and arranging flowers whilst you spend months at sea. I think perhaps at one time that was what you thought you needed. No, if you married Fiona you would not get such an easy time of it. She'd rather sail with you than be left behind. She loves the sea as you do. That's where she wishes her life to unfold. You would not take that away from her. In fact I think there is very little you would really be taking from her. In fact I think you'd be liberating her. I know about her uncle after all, and all of the time she's spent hiding. As your wife she'd not have to do so any more. She's lived with a constant knot of fear sitting there in her chest, torturing her dreams and forcing her to fear the unknown. You say she fears a cage and that's ironic for it's a cage she's in. You'd be setting her free James. You're a good decent man and you both get along. Indeed I think you both underestimate how much you would come to esteem one another. You cannot tell me she doesn't trust you if she spent the night in your bed. Trust and friendship is a good foundation. Look at what you've both been through together over the last lot of months and before you even met! She understands you James. That's more than I could have done really. I have no notion of how you've been shaped by the things you've seen and gone through. Fiona does because she's lived through hard times too. I think you are both a fair match for one another."

"What would you have me do Elizabeth? Make her life a misery by keeping her cooped up in a house whilst I'm at sea? You say she'd sail with me but the navy does not permit such a thing. It is something I've given great thought to because you are right in saying it would enable me to protect Miss O'Connell further but I will not make the decision for her. She's had so much of her fate decided for her that I could not possibly take it upon myself to force or coerce her into such a marriage even if I thought it would save her life. Certainly if things go awry with Beckett then we are swiftly running out of time. If need be I will broach the subject with her but as a suggestion. She alone shall dictate the terms for I know that to be a navy wife is not something many women find agreeable. You yourself must comprehend that!"

"James I do not deserve that! I am ever so sorry for the pain I unknowingly inflected upon you. My heart had decided my fate before I ever knew it. I made my choice James. Now you must make yours. Do not think for a second of using the navy as an excuse though. If that is the only fault you can find in the whole matter, then perhaps the navy is no longer for you! There is a whole world out there James. Stop hiding behind your position and your pride! Really, it's a wonder you and Fiona get on at all when you revert to your former self. This new changed version of you I've seen over the last lot of days is admirable and by far the better man. Indeed if I'd met with you all those years ago as you are now, who knows what I might have thought of you. I might even have come to love you. Speak to Fiona. Offer her your terms and take hers on board. Even if Beckett is removed from office and sacked from all society, it is still something you should think on. I think you and Fiona both need a little looking after. She makes you a better man and you could protect her from her uncle. I don't think you can say fairer than that."

With that Elizabeth turned on her heel and stormed back towards the doors into the breakfast room, her skirts billowing behind her in the gentle breeze. There had once been a time when James would have had to reluctantly avert his eyes so as not to be caught improperly watching her as she walked away. Even such an interference as the one she'd just presented would have been welcome to him back then. Now he only thought her an annoyance to his few moments of solitude in the fresh air before he met with governor Swann. Elizabeth was right of course; she always was. He just needed a day or two to pluck up the courage to speak with me, and to say the right things. Little did he know, that waiting a few days would change everything.

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 ** _So what do you think James will do? Will he decide to make Fiona an offer? Will he get there in time; and how will Fiona navigate Beckett's ultimatum? Find out in 'Chapter Fifty Four - The Devil's Clutches'._**


	54. Chapter Fifty Four- The Devil's Clutches

_**Thanks to the guest for the review! I love reading reviews so please leave me one if you've got the time! It helps me to know that people are still reading this story!**_

 _ **On to this chapter, where everything is about to change for Fiona and James...**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fifty Four - The Devil's Clutches**_

I suppose you'll be wanting to know how I was so confident that I'd escape the governor's home so readily on the third night since Beckett's unwelcome visit. The truth is that it was all rather easy. I'd felt comfortable in the house with all of the staff and I knew they liked me well enough. They did seem to be a little on their guard where even I was concerned though. I think perhaps James had warned them that I was a potential flight risk and to keep an eye on me. I'd not asked for much during my stay, so when I did ask, they were only too happy to help. I can't say I've ever really agreed with having others to do your bidding but I knew in order to make my escape as inconspicuously as possible I'd have to indulge a little. I complained a little to Mary of knee trouble and she suggested a bath. I let her bring the water up, knowing very well that a bath and fresh night clothes would make her sure of my staying put that night. It was still early evening and the family were still at dinner. Mine had been brought to me so that I might spend the evening in my room. I ate slowly as the bath was assembled and then I was left in peace to bathe alone. I ignored the bath, slipping out of the borrowed clothes I'd been wearing that day so that I could pull on my own old clothing. I made sure that anything Elizabeth had offered me the use of was clean and folded neatly. I gathered up a few small sentimental items of my own that included Mick's wife's jewellery that I still carried around with me. There was also my own mother's jewellery that I could not bear to part with for anyone. To be honest though I left far more behind than I took.

I left behind the coat that James had put around me so many nights ago both to keep out the cold and to protect me from the prying eyes of Townshend's crew. I left it where it had always sat, in the chair in the corner of the room. Far more symbolic though was the book Elizabeth had told me I should keep; _Ovid's metamorphoses_ which I stood up against the arm of the same chair. I wanted James to read the book. I wanted him to know the truth of who we were to one another eventually. I couldn't bear to tell him myself though. I'd not seen him since three evenings previous when I'd fallen asleep in his bed. Part of me was glad that I had no more temptation to stay forced upon me and another part of me was distraught that I'd seen him for the last time. I left the blade too that he'd given me for protection because I had no need of it where I was going. I wanted to return it, and in doing so to thank him for the protection he had offered me himself. I slipped it into the coat pocket along with my necklace. The pink stone encased in the gold trinity knot winked at me in the candlelight momentarily before I stuffed it into the pocket out of sight. It was a representation of everything in the world that I could not have. Whilst I was overly attached to the trinket, it was yet again something that I would have no further use for. I only hoped that in giving it to James that he would derive some comfort from it, especially given the story he'd told me of his father and the woman who'd given him what I believed was my necklace. The coin purse full of gold that I still had left I decided to leave in the little box that Mary had provided for me to place my belongings in. If anyone were to have it I wanted it to be Mary. I felt she deserved a little windfall.

I crossed the room carefully and quietly, my gaze lingering on the cooper tub full of warm water as I passed it. It would be so easy to just strip off and jump in to the inviting water, to take the bath that everyone thought I was having and forget my plans. It couldn't happen though. I'd known all along had I not that it all had to come to an end some way? If I did not leave, then I was placing James in a very precarious position. Even without the danger that Beckett posed us all I couldn't get the thought out of my head that my uncle could just turn up on the doorstep one day and find out that the very man he had given a commission to had been hiding me for months. That could be another potential blow to James's career. I knew of course that he had little to no intentions of honouring my uncle's commission but that was his own choice to make. I thought it to be the right choice all in all but I was not about to be the cause of any further disgrace for the man who I had come to care so much for.

Just as I reached the door I turned back and glanced about the pretty room for one last time. The lump of cushions beneath the counterpane on the bed should fool anyone who came into the room for long enough because it was already growing dark outside and the candlelight threw the whole room into shadow. I could only hope they'd think I was asleep in bed until morning. Out in the hallway I crept swiftly towards the staircase and looked out over the balcony to find that sure enough, the footmen were still in position either side of the doors. I pondered my options as I crept back around the corner and leaned against the wall in the gloom. I needed to find a way past the household staff which I thought I could readily manage on my own but it was James's men I was worried about. From almost every window in the house a red coat could be glimpsed strolling the perimeter boundary of the front of the house. That was why I'd chosen to leave through one of the doors that led out into the garden. Sure hadn't James himself given me the idea in the first place on the day he'd taken me out to that little stream so far from the house. If I followed the stream I had an inkling I could pass right by the wall of navy men protecting the house without them even knowing. I could even swim it if I had to.

Just as I took one last deep breath and turned back around the corner, I collided with a body. I jerked back straight away, my thoughts immediately flying to James. When I glanced up though it was to find Will Turner looming over me with a knowing expression on his face.

"Commodore Norrington and Elizabeth seemed convinced that you'd stay put Miss O'Connell but I wasn't entirely sure. I wanted them to be right of course, but I see now that they were not. You're leaving. I cannot begin to imagine just where it might be that you're running to."

He'd asked no questions. I could tell by his disappointed glance towards my old clothes that he knew exactly what I was up to. There would be no sense in arguing with him. "I don't have much choice," I replied wanly. "I'm only bringing more trouble here. I'm better off far away where I can't drag anyone down with me."

"I don't believe that and neither do you," Will replied sternly. He glanced back towards the staircase briefly to be sure that our conversation was private before he continued. "If you agree to go back to your room now and not to try to run again I'll not say a word about our little meeting here. It never even happened. I shouldn't like Elizabeth to find out that you were ready to throw away her offer of hospitality so readily! Not to mention the disregard you show for commodore Norrington's continued endeavours to protect and aid you! Have you no notion of just the kind of trouble he faces? Have you not the decency to at least follow his instructions and wait until he can thrash Beckett himself? He would readily let you leave to follow your own path once he knows you are safe and yet you cannot even put enough trust in him to wait."

"I'm doing the decent thing by going now! Of course I trust him! That's why I have to go! I can't allow him to face any more bother on my account! I won't let that happen! I completely understand what everyone has sacrificed for me but I never asked for them to do it, nor did I want them too. I appreciate everything that you've all done for me but I won't have anyone else in danger because of me! Commodore Norrington trusts me and I trust him. I also know him well I think. I know how he will act if the things that I fear come to pass. That's why I have to go!"

Will no longer appeared angry. He smiled softly, as if he sympathised with me. "So Elizabeth was right then. You care for him if you believe you know him well. You two have struck quite the accord. You should speak with him before you make any rash decisions. I know you told him about Beckett's proposition but if there was something else-"

"You of all people must understand, surely?" I asked him solemnly. "You turned to a life of piracy and sailed across the ocean, risking your own neck for the woman that you loved. That was a rash decision but I dare say you'd not change a thing about it. In your eyes it was the right thing to do. Don't try to tell me that the situation is different or that the danger isn't the same! danger is danger. Don't you see why you have to let me go?"

"So you do love him then? Elizabeth said it was so. On the contrary, I don't see why I should let you go anywhere miss O'Connell! There is a safety in numbers and we are all more likely to figure all of this out if we stick together! Do you really think that the commodore is going to believe you just decided to up and leave without some malevolent influence of some sort? He will think you've been coerced or that you've been taken. You'd in fact be causing him much more trouble in leaving."

I was shaking my head even as Will took a hold of my arm as if in fear that I'd make a run for it. "If I told you Will, that my leaving would make everything go away; would you let me go? A life without Beckett dogging your every step? A happy marriage with Elizabeth, with her father at your side? Don't you want all that? Don't you at least want the commodore to be happy and free and thriving after you took the woman he loved from him? I can make all of that happen and I want to. I have to to it. I've no reason to stay. Granted I've been sorrily glad to meet you all and I've come to highly esteem Elizabeth against my own better judgement but I'm not the kind of house guest you want. We're all very different people. The commodore has a very bright and prosperous future ahead of him that I would only tarnish. The best thing I can do for him is to keep him safe. That's what I want to do. Surely you can understand that I've nothing else to offer him but that. That's why I want to go. He knows that above all I desire freedom in my life. I want to sail to the very end of my days, going where I please and plotting my own path. He knows how restricted and caged I've been before in my life and of how I've also felt that way recently. He'll think I've simply given up. He'll think badly of me and that's probably the best way to let things play out. If he thinks badly of me he won't ever guess the truth. He won't know that I left to save his life or his career. Perhaps that might embarrass him."

Will squeezed my arm lightly where he still held it in his grip. "You're walking into the lions den. You must know that it's a trap. Beckett wants to use you to get to Norrington."

"I won't let him. Beckett wants justice for Townshend. I was the one who killed him. I caused all of that trouble. I have to atone for it in some way. I've lived a life full of adventure. I've met some wonderful people and I've come to terms with what I need to do in order to bring it all to an end. Besides, do you really think that if Beckett used me, he'd rile the commodore into action? He's a decent man, I know that. He's also no fool! He knows my miserable life isn't worth everything he holds dear! I mean very little in the grand scheme of all things. It's best that I end things on my terms."

"You could go to Jack..." I knew Will was clutching at straws. In fact I appreciated that he'd had such a thought. I'd not had much of an inkling about him before but I was beginning to see that there was a good man there behind the brown eyes. "You must have heard that he escaped?"

I nodded slowly. "I did hear. Even if going to Jack was an option, I'm not sure I could trust him entirely. Everyone I've met seems to have some kind of hidden intention, including Jack. I know you think he's a good man Will... but I can't forget the fact that he promised me passage aboard The Pearl when really he thought I could lead him to The Crown of Immortality. I can't go to Jack, I'd only draw attention to him. I have to do what Beckett bids in order to protect the commodore. That's what we do, you and I... we put others before ourselves at all times. I've got the opportunity to give back to those that have helped me and in a way it takes the weight off my own shoulders. I don't regret what happened to Townshend but I still took a man's life. I understand that I must atone for my actions. I'd rather atone in a way that can help others. If I get Beckett off James's back and the governor's, that means you and Elizabeth will be free. Don't you want that? Don't you want a long and happy life together?"

I was trying my hardest to persuade Will to let me go quietly because if he did not, I might find myself under lock and key before I got the chance to escape. Of all of the people in the house though I felt I was lucky that it was him I ran into. With him I had common ground that I could use as leverage to get my own way. Will sighed after a few seconds and let go of my arm. "I cannot agree with what you have said because it will only encourage you miss Fiona. None of us would ever ask you to do such a thing for us or sanction such actions under any circumstances. I do however see in you the independent streak that I see in Elizabeth. Therefore I understand that once you've made a decision there will be no moving you. I won't stop you, but don't ask me to aid you in what I think is wrong."

I nodded and moved around him before he could change his mind but just as I began to round the corner I stopped. I could sense him behind me still. Without turning to look at him I spoke again. "You can't tell him. You can't tell the commodore what you know of my feelings, or why I've left. He can't know any of it. It's better that way. He'll only get himself into trouble if he knows the truth."

With that I moved off, taking the stairs two at a time and carefully prowling across the atrium to avoid the sight of the footmen who had just moved into the dinning room to aid with the clearing away of dinner. It was the perfect time to leave the house, when nearly all of the household staff were occupied in their after dinner tasks. The lower floor of the house was alive with activity as maids rushed to fill bed pans and heat them before the family retired for the evening and the footmen were taking trays upstairs so that they could carry down all of the dinner things. I wasn't even noticed in the dark recesses of the corridors because everyone was so busy. That was how I made it into the kitchen unnoticed and out through the doors that led to the back of the house. Once outside I simply had to avoid being seen from the windows. It was easy enough to reach the other end of the garden where I knew I was out of sight and could risk stopping to catch my breath a little. In the darkness I only hoped that I'd be able to find my way to the stream alone. I wasn't Mick's first mate for nothing though and I knew I was better placed than most when it came to directions. In and out of the trees I weaved, sure that I was going in the general direction of the stream. The air here was fresher than it was closer to the house probably owing to the trees but I thought I could also feel the moisture in the air. Sure enough, after a few more twists and turns I heard the gentle gushing of the stream. It wasn't long before I reached the clearing and came upon the sheer sheet of black water that glistened and glinted in the light of the moon. I knew then that all I had to do was follow the path the stream made to get myself off the governor's estate.

Despite the surprising coolness of the air around me I had the urge to be in the water. I slipped off my shoes and paddled my bare feet in the stream for a few minutes, growing ever conscious of the time. The longer I dawdled, the more chance there was of my being caught. Maybe that was what had me hesitating. In my mind I was imagining James running from the house when he discovered my absence, tearing across the lawns in search of me and catching me up just before I sank into the stream and out of sight. He'd take me back to the house and have me under guard at all times so that I did not run again. I'd tell him the real truth, leaving nothing out and then he'd know my true feelings for him. He'd know I only left because I wanted to save him. I knew how he was more likely to act in such a scenario. He had no romantic interests in a common country girl turned privateer and pirate. We were friends at least I liked to think, but little more. Mick had seen to that when he'd saved the commodore's life and instilled a sense of consciousness in James. If it were not for that noble act then James wouldn't have felt he owed Mick a debt. I'd have more than likely been lumped in with all of the pirates from _The Black Pearl._ Hadn't that been what I'd wanted at the time though?

Before my mind drifted too deeply into such thoughts I dragged my feet out of the stream again and moved off, the cool grass soothing against the soles of my feet. I followed the stream downhill, keeping close to the banks of it as I went. Although I was glad to have found it and sure of it being the best escape route I was still not entirely at ease. There was something in the air that made me uneasy, some sense of foreboding that sent shivers down my spine. I put it all down to the fact that I knew how things would end. I wasn't likely to be long for the world once Beckett had me where he wanted me. I knew how I would be painted as Beckett tried me for Townshend's death. I'd be denounced as some kind of harlot who'd tricked him and teased him before killing him outright. They might even call me a witch and place blame of the sinking of Townshend's fleet upon my shoulders in order to cover up the fact that James had any involvement in it. In truth that was what I was hoping for. I did not want there to be any reason whatsoever for James's name to be brought into any such conversation. I wanted him to be entirely free of any suspicion. As the trees around the stream began to thicken again I wondered if such an occurrence marked the edge of the governor's estate. I began to peer through the darkness as I walked, wondering if there would be a wrought iron fence and some gates nearby that I would need to avoid. I wadded into the stream again, realising for the first time that I must have left my shoes behind when I'd first paddled in it further uphill. I grimaced at my own foolishness in leaving such a trial behind but it was not something I could go back and change now. I waded further into the stream until the water swirled around my knees and kept walking downhill, my breath coming in shorter bursts in response to the cool water. It began to warm eventually with my body heat but that was the least of my worries. I could glimpse stonework not far from me, appearing out of the gloom and with it I could hear men's voices.

As I drew silently closer I was able to discern a little bridge which leapt over the stream and formed part of a stone wall that marked the boundary of the governor's estate. Atop the bridge I could make out the silhouette of marines in their red coats against the moonlight. They were chatting amicably, clearly unaware of my approach and not expecting anything untoward at all. Their ease would only aid me. I ducked as low as I dared in the water so that only my head remained above the surface and swam until I was beneath the bridge but I knew it could not be so easy an escape. I was right. An iron grill blocked the alcove beneath the bridge and for a moment my heart sank entirely. The thoughts of finding a spot to try and scale the stone wall were not pleasing as I was not sure I'd make it and even if I did, I was likely to land on some poor soldier's head. I was running my hands over the metalwork to try and find some weakness somewhere when my hand brushed against a thick chunk of metal protruding from the grill. I grinned as I realised it was a lock and immediately rummaged in my pockets for one of my mother's old hairpins. I knew time was against me but I had no other option than to try and pick the lock. I only hoped the men above me on the bridge would think that any noises I made were really the sound of some animal nearby.

It felt like an age that I spent picking that lock if I'm honest. I'm still not sure how long it took me exactly but I felt like I was never going to succeed. I can't tell you how many times I dropped the hair pin and had to dive beneath the surface to find it again. My only blessing was that the water was quite shallow. I was able to keep my head above while picking the lock but the lock was submerged, making it damned hard to see any of what I was doing. I used my sense of touch mostly, picking with one hand and feeling the lock with the other for any sign that I was making progress. Eventually I felt something within the lock click. I did not hear the sound from underneath the water but I was sure that the men above would hear an old rusty iron grill being opened. The hinges above water that I could see where rusty so god knows what the ones beneath the surface were like. I waited a while as I tried to think of something I could use as a distraction but nothing seemed to come to mind. Would they really think a load of splashing about was just animal or would those marines come to check the source of such a sound? I decided to open the iron grill ever so slowly, stopping every so often as I sensed it was about to make a creaking sound. I was poised to make a sudden splash with my feet to hide the sounds but remarkably, I managed to get the grill open enough to swim through without making too much noise. Once on the other side I swam off silently, ducking beneath the water entirely to ensure that I was not seen by any of the men. My hair in the moonlight would certainly give me away just as I'd recognised the colour of their coats.

I still don't know how I managed it all but eventually I rounded a bend in the stream that continued downhill and I knew I was free of the estate. I surfaced again and pulled myself free of the stream altogether. I stood shivering and shaking on the bank as I tried to work out my bearings. I decided to head in the same direction I would go if I were still upstream and trying to find the house again. That seemed to be the more populated side of the town and I had the inkling that I was going to find Hawkins at the port. There seemed to be no more fitting place. It took hours to find my way back into town in the darkness. I'll admit to being almost near hysterics when I finally caught a glimpse of some sign of life through the trees. I'm not one for loosing my head in a crisis as you'll know but some part of me was full of fear that I'd not find my way out of those woods at all and that I'd die there. When I first saw the lights from the few homes nearby I was so relived that I sank to my knees and cried a little. I only hoped I'd found a road back into town. Yet again I was right. Soaking wet and in only a skirt and my threadbare shirt I must have looked a right sight to behold but there were not many about that night. I think I often forget how late it must have been and how long it had really taken me to escape from governor Swann's home. It must have been the early hours of the morning at least.

When I found myself treading a more cobbled street I knew I was on the right path. Sure enough, after a few more turns I recognised the marketplace that James and I had passed on my first day in Port Royal. I weaved in and out of the empty stalls and carts until I found my way to the quay. A lone carriage waited there, a grand coach and four that looked entirely out of place next to the decapitated stalls and ships moored nearby. The coat of arms on the side was not one I recognised but I reasoned that it could very well be Beckett's. As I stood staring at it, out of the darkness a man rounded the side of the carriage and tipped his hat to greet me with an ominous grin. _Hawkins_. Even though I'd known this was my fate and how everything was going to end, my stomach still churned as I think I realised for the first time how real it all was. There was no going back to the comfort of the governor's residence with Elizabeth to whisper quietly to and James to stare at out of the corner of my eye. My life as I knew it was very over. Hawkins must have sensed my sudden epiphany for he reached my side in seconds and clamped a heavy hand down on my shoulder to ensure I did not run. He said nothing as he pushed me in the direction of the carriage and I let him, my mouth too dry to speak and my body too wet and cold to to anything other than comply. My mind had gone into shock I think. Hawkins pushed me in the direction of the carriage door that swung open and I clambered in, my mind waking enough to send up a prayer that after all of this James and the Turners would be safe from harm. If not, what was it all for?

The rich leather interiors of the carriage lent a certain smell to it that I did not find inviting. In fact it was almost choking as I felt around in the gloom for the seat and sat down. I curled into the corner of it and brought my knees up to my chest, trying to calm the uncontrollable shivers wracking my body. I wondered vaguely what was keeping Hawkins and leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse of him outside. In response the carriage door was thrown closed and the carriage took off abruptly. Then I had the strange notion that I was not alone in the carriage at all, but Hawkins had not climbed in with me.

Then out of the darkness came a voice so cold and so repulsive that I retched. "Hello, my dear..." Sheer panic froze all thought and movement in my body as a face loomed towards me out of the darkness. My uncle was sitting opposite me, his cane poised and ready to strike me should I lash out at him. I couldn't move as he pressed closer to me, leaving his own seat behind him to cross the carriage floor towards me. It took a good few seconds for my brain to work again and for me to force my hands into action. I scrambled though my sodden skirt pockets in search of James's blade only to recall that I'd left it behind me. I let out a yelp and kicked out at my uncle, seeing no other way to defend myself as his cane pressed against both of my wrists and locked them in place against the wall of the carriage above my head. I was screaming and shouting then, fighting back as I never have done before even though I knew it would come to no use. In his eyes I saw the same wickedness I'd seen eight years ago before I fled his home in London. I realised then that Beckett had lied to me. This had been his plan all along. He had always intended to hand me back to my uncle as the means of keeping me quiet and I had walked right into that trap. I was back where I had started eight years ago. I was back in the devil's clutches.

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 _ **In the next chapter, what will Fiona 's uncle ask of her, and how will she go about saving her friends and herself at the same time?...**_


	55. Chapter Fifty Five - Niamh Lefroy

_**Thank you to the guests for the reviews! I love reading what you think of each chapter so please leave a review if you've got the time!**_

 _ **Now on to the chapter where we discover just where Fiona's rather rash decisions have led her. I feel quite sorry for James in this chapter...**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter Fifty Five - Niamh Lefroy**_

I can't imagine how James must have been feeling the next morning. He says he had resolved to do the right thing before he left his home after dawn and made the trek up the hill to the governor's residence. I'm not sure whether I believe him or not. How do I know what James's true feelings for me really were back then? He'd not expressed them to me or to anyone else. For all I know, he was grappling with the notion of having to marry someone for whom he had no romantic inclinations. I can imagine that it was weighing heavily on his mind. He wanted to do right by me because he thought my predicament was his fault but I'm not sure how keen he was to have me as his wife. The act of marriage might save me but then we would be husband and wife. I know now of course that James believed in the sanctity of marriage. He would have wanted to try to make things work with whoever he married. Would it have worked between us though? I think those are the kind of questions he must have been asking himself that morning. I think he was also worried that I might refuse him. If I did, he was certain that he would not argue the point or force it in any way. He wanted me to make my decision freely. I do genuinely believe he thought he would be refused. It would have been the height of embarrassment to be refused for a second time and by someone he called a friend. Could he endure such a blow again? Granted, his offer to Elizabeth had been made under different circumstances but I think my refusal would have smarted all the same.

When he reached the house he enquired not after me but after the governor. He wanted to explain his intentions fully to his mentor before he acted. I think perhaps he even thought that as I was a guest of the governor and his daughter and had no family myself to speak of, that they were almost my guardians of sorts and that propriety required that he speak with them first. I can't quite decide wither this notion pleases me or not. I like that he had good intentions and wished to do things properly and in a gentlemanly manner but I'm also a grown woman. I believe I had the right to know what they were scheming and plotting as it affected my future greatly.

Ushered into the governor's study, James found the governor himself already behind his desk and hard at work but he paused and glanced up as James's visit was announced. James says something in his expression must have given the governor leave to throw down his quill and stand from his chair. He rounded his desk quickly and gestured for the footman who had accompanied James to return to the hallway and close the door as he went. Perhaps there was a steely determination in James's eyes that morning because his decision was made but overall I've gathered that he usually exuded a stead-fast resolve. I'm inclined to think that governor Swann was actually rather moved to see his friend so anxious.

"Commodore, has something happened?"

"Sir it is only that I have come to a decision." James moved further into the room but did not take a seat. There was too much nervous energy somersaulting through him to sit in one condition. "These are perilous times Indeed sir. I have given the matter much thought and am inclined to think that for miss O'Connell's own safety and security here in Port Royal I should offer for her. Such a marriage is likely not ideal for either of us but my name should be enough to protect her from harm. I am assured that my letters will have reached London and the King by now and a swift reply should be on it's way. Once I have such documents I will be able to act. The King will name me Lord Protector of this town and it's surrounding waters until such a time as there is no possible threat to any resident here. As my wife, miss O'Connell would be perhaps more secure than she's ever been in her life. I have grappled with such a decision for days but I see no alternative."

Governor Swann was smiling which both put James at ease and worried him. He did not quite know what his mentor was about to say. "Well I am glad to see that you've taken my advice dear fellow. I think it is a noble act given the circumstances. I am sure my guest will be entirely grateful for your kind care and attentions and for your proposal. Whilst I like her well enough I will say that it's quite the match to have made for a woman of her standing. I am sure her parents would be ever so pleased and proud were they alive to see such a day."

James shook his head then, a frown marring his features. "That is just it sir. I have no notion whatsoever as to whether miss O'Connell will accept such a proposal or not. She is strong minded and you sir have first hand experience of such a trait in a young woman. She may take insult at being propositioned so without prior knowledge of our discussions on the matter. Certainly she desires freedom above all else and that I would not refuse her. I will offer for her and it shall be up to her which path she takes in life. If she still wishes to return to Ireland a free woman I will escort her there as I have promised to do. I won't force her hand, no matter the danger to us all. Most of all though I do believe she will think herself unworthy of such an offer. She is rather a strange creature; not at all like any of the women that either of us may have known in our lives. She does not take praise well, nor does she consider herself as someone that a man may find attractive. Indeed I do not particularly think she has ever been the marrying kind. I do not blame her when I think of all that she has told me about her life thus far. It is a shame really for she would make many a man better by consenting to be his wife. I think she would marry for love if she so found it though. I believe her to have a well hidden romantic notion that likely stems from her upbringing and her heritage. The rather mad, magical Irish sentiment lives strongly within her."

"Then tell her that you lover her, if you think that would sway her. If it saves her life commodore then all else can be figured out later."

James laughed harshly. "Sir I think such declarations would be the last thing that would entice miss O'Connell to marry me. I believe she would only entertain such professions of adoration if she returned them equally. As I said, I do not think she has much interest in marriage but if she did I do believe I'd be last on the list of eligible prospects. We are so very different after all."

"Pray tell commodore, how are you so different? You are both noble people governed by your hearts alone. You've both been rather unlucky when it comes to love and happiness. Most importantly you both share a love for the sea. Commodore do I need to show you a list of the books that miss O'Connell has borrowed from this very study on seafaring and sailing during her stay; old tomes that I've never once leafed through in the thirty or forty years I've owned them and that young woman devoured them in a matter of hours and not once did she have to come up for air to ask a single question about them. You may have different upbringings, different outlooks upon society and life in general but your minds are essentially the same. She is a good match for you!"

"And what am I do to sir, take such a wife out upon the sea with me? It is not done. The life of a commodore or an admiral is not the life she wants-"

"Who says it cannot be done my dear fellow? Do you know all of these changes that come to pass in this grand old world we live in; they happen because one fellow or another simply steps out and does something different and doesn't give a fig for what society or the rest of the world thinks! Women on the stage! Coffee houses! Civil war! For heaven's sake, I now have a blacksmith and a pirate for a son in law! Was that the kind of marriage that I wanted for my daughter? You know it certainly was not! Does my daughter's husband lover her as much as she loves him? Indeed he does! True connection whether romantic or platonic love lasts a lot longer than convenience and circumstance! You say miss O'Connell is inclined to believe the mad ravings of all those Irish folk tales about magic so why on earth would she not take a chance on what the two of you appear to have. It seems to me to be a better life for her than the one she'd have if Beckett gets his way. She doesn't appear to me to be the type that gives a toss about what anyone thinks really. Perhaps you need to embrace her outlook a little. Stop caring what people will say. You might even grow to enjoy having a wife at sea with you. A little companionship goes along way you know."

"I do not mean to sound ungrateful for your words of support sir, but I mean what I say. I will not force miss O'Connell's hand. Nor will I attempt to coerce her. The choice must be hers and hers alone. I will speak with her this morning and-"

Elizabeth came barrelling into the room, her arms swinging wildly as she rushed towards her father, something clutched in one of her hands. "She's gone, Fiona is gone!"

"What?" governor Swann and James cried in unison. It was only then that Elizabeth realised James was in the room.

She turned sympathetic eyes upon him, her chest still heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "I was out walking by the stream and I found these near the bank." James finally realised what Elizabeth was carrying; my shoes.

"But surely she's just forgotten them when she's returned to the house." Governor Swann tried for a reassuring tone of voice but it fell on deaf ears. He could see the panic and disbelief on James's face and the worry upon his daughter's.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I've had Mary check her room. I don't think her bed's been slept in all night. There were pillows beneath the counterpane. I suppose to anyone that glanced into the room would have thought Fiona was still asleep."

James moved then like lightening, striding through the atrium towards the rooms at the back of the house. Gillette awaited him near the staircase and he gestured for his most trusted man to follow. From the breakfast parlour James threw open the french doors and moved out into the gardens and stalked across the lawns, very aware of governor Swann and Elizabeth following in their wake. Gillette was close behind him but he didn't dare to ask James what troubled him. Perhaps he knew the situation to be dire purely from his superior's expression. Through the trees they weaved, their pace picking up as James heard the telltale sound of the gushing stream. He stopped on the bank and stared around him as panic began to flare within him once more.

He says he did not want to believe that I'd gone; that I might have taken it upon myself to leave protection and security behind for God knows what reason. He turned to face Elizabeth as she reached his side and gestured to where she'd found my shoes. "Could she have fallen?" Governor Swann asked as he too finally reached the banks. "Perhaps the force of the water pulled her under or rushed her along."

James's mind was full of so many possibilities at that moment but he managed to cut through the haze and listen to his mentor's words. Then he realised his mistake. "I showed her this place. I led her to this stream. I gave her a means to escape without even realising it. Of course she would think of the water first. Where does this damned stream lead?"

"Downhill I expect," Gillette supplied thinly. "Surely she'd have come upon some kind of barrier? If she was swept away by the force of the water she might be stuck there!"

"Yes, let us hope so," Governor Swann replied. There is a gate that blocks all but the water of the stream. It is a part of the walled boundary of the estate."

James had already moved off downhill, breaking into a small run as the thought occurred to him that I might not have run after all. He began to consider then that perhaps I had been out for an innocent stroll and I'd lost my footing. He hoped I'd only been carried downstream a little and wasn't too badly hurt. It pains me to know that he was so worried, but I had known when I decided to leave in such a manner that I'd be causing upset and worry. There had been no other option open to me though. As the group neared the stonework that bridged the stream James left the bank behind and waded out into the water. The iron gate must have swung shut again during the night because at first none of them noticed that it was unlocked. James was searching all around the banks in search of anything that might tell him more. He crouched down and swam beneath the bridge until he came to the iron grill and began to feel around on the muddy bed of the stream. A few seconds later the others heard the iron grill creak open and slam shut with such a force of anger that they all took a step back.

Just as Will joined them, James emerged from the alcove beneath the bridge, something gold clutched in his hand. He held up my mother's hairpin that I must have dropped. "She wasn't taken and there was no innocent accident. She left of her own accord. She picked her way out!"

"Why would she?" Elizabeth cried as James heaved himself back up onto the bank and began to stalk back uphill.

"I have no idea Mrs. Turner," James threw over his shoulder in a clipped tone. "You spent the most time with her during her stay, talked with her the most. If anyone should know, it's you!"

"Now look here commodore-" The governor began but James held up a hand for silence.

"Forgive me governor Swann but this is not a time for disputes and excuses. You yourself have no place in this argument when a vulnerable young woman under your care appears to have escaped your home! We have not time for this! I want to know who has come and gone from this house since Beckett's visit and I want to know why! Gillette, fetch any trustworthy man of ours and have them search every building in Port Royal and every ship moored at the docks. Have Thompson head up the search. I want miss O'Connell found; but she's not to be harmed in any way. I know you will already know that. I think she will not put up too much of a fuss as she trusts us; or at least she did before. Fetch Lieutenant Beauchamp as you go and return here with him. You and Beauchamp shall accompany me to Fort Charles. Lord Beckett has an audience with me whether he likes it or not!"

I had been plucked, prodded, preened and scrubbed to within an inch of my life forcibly, with two hard and cold women standing guard over me as much as they were there to make me presentable. I knew there was no sense in trying to run from the upmarket inn I'd been bundled into in the early hours of the morning because my uncle would have men standing guard outside. My skin had been rubbed almost raw whilst I was held down in a copper bath tub, the scalding water turning my skin a searing pink that clashed with my already embarrassed and frustrated flaming red face. Then they'd moved on to my hair, tugging and ripping at it to try and get the knots out. Now I know how much Mary had taken a care to remove the knots from my hair in a much gentler fashion so I'm of the belief they just did it to cause me more pain and humiliation. Then I was left to dry off alone in the room. Don't think I didn't try the sash window that looked out onto a quiet street but it was jammed shut and some sort of resin had been poured into the lock which meant I couldn't even attempt to pick it. The notions of how I might make another escape flitted through my mind but I was also so worried about what might happen if I did. Would James have to face the consequences for my actions if I did get away?

In no time at all though the two harsh women were back and I did wonder just where my uncle had found them. I tried to fight them off with kicks and slaps and bites as they forcibly stood me up and began to shove me into undergarments the like of which I'd never worn in all my life. Was this what every morning would have been like if I'd married my uncle? First they slipped a linen shift over my head and shoved my arms into the sleeves. Then came the silk stockings, garters and petticoats. I already felt like I was wearing too much clothing by that point, but I began to fear what was coming next; stays. After what seemed like an age and a battle the two women succeeded in trussing me up so tightly that I could barely breathe. I'd worn stays before but they'd always been laced with a much gentler hand. These women were evidently so disgusted with me that they felt the need to suffocate me. They moved away to fuss over the pannier which was a strangely shaped long cushion with a ribbon attached. I'd never worn one myself but I recalled my mother wearing one on special occasions when she wore her fine dress. It circled the waist and made the skirts sit out from the body. I glanced down and if I'm honest I've never considered myself that well endowed in the breast department; but suddenly they were sitting high on my chest, pushed upwards by the stays and looking like they never had before. It was not an image I considered attractive. I did not want to be some stuffed and powdered little doll but evidently this was what my uncle had requested. Then came more petticoats and finally the pink skirts and bodice of the dress itself. With the window so shut there was little air in the room and I was already struggling with the heat and the weight of the clothing. I had a new appreciation for Elizabeth and her peers. I couldn't fathom how they carried all of that cloth around with them at all times. I was also careful not to lean forward as most of the bodice was held together with pins and I didn't want to prick myself with them. I also wanted to make sure I didn't loose them because they might come in handy later on.

Finished with the dress, the women then shoved me back into a chair and began to tug on my almost dry hair. It was twisted and pulled every which way until it sat in a careful pompadour on top of my head, with my wavy tresses carefully curled into perfect ringlets which fell over my shoulders. Little ringlets had been carefully placed all over my head, giving the appearance that my hair was actually just held up with one clip and was in fact bouncy and movable. This was a fabrication. My hair was pulled so taught and twisted and pinned so harshly that I could barely turn my neck. I started as I felt a strange sensation at my neck, just beneath my ears. I spun round to find the woman retreating with a glass stopper which she returned to a perfume bottle. I didn't want to think of who had chosen the scent. When I'd been laden with fine jewellery and my feet had been placed in heeled slippers with a fancy buckle I was then shuffled before a full length mirror.

I gasped as I saw my reflection for the first time. I no loner looked like myself. I no longer looked like Fiona O'Connell. I resembled much more closely the miniature portrait of my younger self that Hawkins had been carrying around in his pocket for so long. I was once more Niamh Lefroy. A chill ran down my spine and I am sure my blood ran cold in that moment. This woman before me in the mirror was my uncle's wife, or rather his creation of the perfect wife. She looked a fine woman with her carefully coiffed hair and fine silk skirts but she was not someone I knew. It dawned on me then that I might have met the same fate as James's wife. He was such a refined man that he would require a wife of the same stature.

I had thought myself alone in the room until my uncle cleared his throat behind me. I turned precariously on my new heel, feeling the stiff back stays of the shoes digging into the back of my ankles as I went. The shoes were going to be just as much trouble as the dress and the hair. His gaze was trained on my chest and my new found perky breasts as he began to advance towards me. I shuffled backwards, still trying to figure out how to move quickly when swathed in so much material. I fell back into the mirror, only staying upon my feet because my uncle threw out his arm and pulled me back into a standing position. His hand slid around my neck then before I could move away from him. I struggled against his hold as his grip of my neck increased. I was kicking out with my feet but the many skirts I wore hampered any of my attempts to kick him. He was holding my neck tightly enough in his grip to keep me from running but not hard enough to mark my skin. I kept struggling even as he bent closer to me, his face in line with mine so that he was able to sniff my hair. I shuddered involuntarily and I felt bile rising in my throat as once again I tried to wriggle from his grip. He turned me swiftly and pulled my back tight against his chest so that we were both staring into the mirror at each other's reflections.

"I think you already know how things are going to play out, Niamh," he whispered into my ear. I was still struggling underneath his grip even as he threw his other arm around my waist to keep me pressed against him.

"Go to hell!" I snarled at him.

He merely chuckled. "Oh if I'm going to hell then I'm taking you with me, after all the trouble you've caused me. I want you to think about those fine friends of yours that looked after you so well. Disobey any of my orders in the slightest and they will die, all of them!"

At last I stilled in his arms and he sighed exasperatedly. "What do you want me to do?" I asked quietly, feeling as if my whole world was about to cave in.

"I think you already know my dear. You're going to fulfil your obligation to me." The hand around my waist moved upwards so that he was able to loop one of my loose ringlets around a finger. "Your mother promised you to me when you were a child! Your father's debts still remain unpaid! You owe me!"

I tried to wrench myself from his grip again but he held firm, snapping me back into place with only his grip of my neck. I winced as a shooting pain seared across my shoulders. "I owe you nothing! My parents are dead! As far as I'm concerned their debts are null and void! What kind of uncle requires the debts of his own brother to be paid in human flesh?"

"You'd be surprised," he replied with a grin. "Your father would have been nothing without my influence. You all would have starved in a cold boggy ditch if I had not stepped in-"

I stamped my feet indignantly, my blood beginning to boil at the slight clearly aimed at my father. "All you did was pay for his education! The influence was all my father's doing. People liked and trusted him because he was a good and honest hard working man who loved his family! He was no trickster like you! He worked every day of his life and loved that he was in a position to help people! He was a far better man than you will ever be! What does that say about all of your pomp and fortune eh? My father would have gotten to where he was without your money just as well! He didn't need it! He was a fool in that he thought your offer of the money showed a kindness and a willingness on your part to remain on good terms with your real family! Lets not forget that although you think me some horrid wretch, you came from the same stock! Insult me and you insult yourself also!"

I think that must have been the moment that my uncle realised I was not going to be bought by fear. I wasn't scared of the fact that my father had once owed him money or that he thought he held something over my family. No, with my family dead I had no care for such threats at all. He struck out at me then suddenly, his fist colliding with the side of my face. I really did fall backwards this time, my head knocking against the corner of the mirror as I went. I lay on the floor in a daze for a few seconds with his feet trampling all around me before he grabbed the collar of my dress and lifted me off the floor slightly. I felt the pins digging into my shoulder but I dared not show him I was in pain. Instead I spat at him and he reeled back but he did not loosen his grip.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen you little hussy! Lord Beckett seems to think you've formed some attachment to commodore Norrington and he for you! Well, that's going to stop! You are going to accompany me to Fort Charles and you will stand before him and tell him that you have accepted my offer of marriage and are happy to marry me! You will leave that fellow in no doubt of your being agreeable to such a match so that he has no reason to ever think upon you again! Indeed you must make him hate you! You will do so and then you will wed me for if you do not... Your new friends will meet the most horrid end you can imagine, all of them! Do this for me, and I'll make your man an Admiral! That's what he wants isn't it, to progress his career further? I'll give him that on the condition you distance yourself from him and wed me. You will cease all contact with those people and return to London with me. You will give birth to my children and you will be the most devoted wife there has ever been or so help me God I'll strike you down and you'll never get up again!"

He threw me down onto the floor again and in a swish of his coat tails he was gone, locking the door behind him. He had realised I did not fear him, but he had also realised that I loved. That was the trump card he had chosen to play in order to win my obedience and how could I refuse? If I did as I was bid James would be alright. In fact, he'd be more than alright. He'd be admiral Norrington and his great future would be lain before him. I'd always planned on leaving and I knew it would offend him but could I really stand in person before the man I loved and rip his heart out like that? Only time would tell.

"You must forgive me commodore Norrington if I am completely ignorant of where your new friend is. The last I saw of her, she was a resident of the governor's household. Perhaps you should ask him."

James says it was only Gillette's careful hand on his shoulder that reminded him to keep his temper in check. "And you Lord Beckett must forgive me if I choose not to believe a word that you say. I have reason to believe you had a hand in her disappearance!"

"You said yourself commodore that she picked a lock and appears to have escaped alone," Beckett said as he threw his arms wide in apparent indifference. "It sounds rather to me like your little friend knew what she was doing. perhaps you should consider that she may have simply grown tired of all the attention. Who am I to stand in the way of a woman's right to freedom?"

James lurched forward but Gillette held him back. Instead Ambrose Beauchamp made careful steps forward so that he stood in front of his cousin. "I am afraid to say so sir," Ambrose began, "but when all recent events are considered, Commodore Norrington believes that you may have unduly influenced the young woman in question. Perhaps you implied that some ill might befall the young woman herself or those she cares for. I am told she is a considerate and conscientious young woman who would not wish to hinder those who have helped her. Perhaps this you already know. Might something that you said have altered her thoughts; perhaps induced her to run?"

"Why should a common country girl turned pirate listen to a word I say," Beckett countered as he stood up from behind his desk and began to pace before the window of his office. "The wretch seems to have no respect for authority whatsoever. Perhaps that is why she left. She knows she is responsible for Viscount Townshend's death and refuses to accept the responsibility. Perhaps that is why she ran. It appears that all of your protestations about her estimable character commodore were well off the mark!"

James says an angry nerve had begun to pulse in his neck. With Ambrose in front of him he had no clear path to Beckett and the few seconds delay that caused seems to have been what brought him back down to earth in time to stop him doing something he may come to regret. Instead he stood silently, trying so very hard to dispel the anger running riot in his veins. He knew Beckett was one for tricks and schemes who would not be silent for long so he resolved to say no more.

"In any case, there is other news that..." Beckett's words had trailed off as he came to a stand still before the window, looking out upon Fort Charles and Port Royal below. "I say commodore, if you wish to know where your vanished party has gone, you need simply take stock of your surroundings!" He gestured to the window and James began to move towards him. He says at that moment a horrible sense of foreboding washed over him so much so that he actually felt nauseous. He followed Beckett's line of sight as his own eyes skimmed over the battlements, garrisons and forecourts until he glimpsed two familiar figures standing at the look out, staring out towards the sea. "Look here man, she's right there!"

The fresh sea wind buffeted against me as we stood in stony silence atop the battlements of Fort Charles. We had been waiting for some time and I knew why. James was inside with Beckett and my uncle wanted me to be the first thing he saw when he made to leave. He wanted me to cut all ties with James just like that; to hurt him and offend him as a means of doing so. I still was not sure I was capable of such a thing but above all I wanted James safe and happy. I knew I would have to muster the courage to be the most downright horrible bitch to him and send him on his way. It was a hard thing to comprehend though. Would James believe any of it? Would I even be able to string a sentence together when my suffocating stays made the breath catch in my throat. As we heard the telltale sound of hessian boots clicking hurriedly against the cobblestones of the forecourt I began to shake all over, the breath rattling in my throat as I tried to suck in much needed air. Then he was running up the steps towards us and my uncle took my arm in a vice like grip.

"Remember our bargain," he snarled in my ear before he moved off to the side, giving just enough time for James to see him clearly before he descended the steps himself.

I'll be honest with you now and say that the next words said to me held so much disappointment, confusion, frustration and malice that I wanted to throw myself down on my knees at James's feet and beg forgiveness, to tell him everything and hope that he would see fit to run my uncle through with his sword. But I did not. Instead I stood there and willed myself to take every insult or cut he threw at me because if I did not, he might loose everything he held dear.

"So this is the path you have chosen?"

* * *

 _ **Coming up in the next chapter, the ultimate showdown between James and Fiona, but what will be the outcome?...**_


	56. Chapter Fifty Six - Midnight at Noonday

_**Thank you to the guest for the review! I love reading the reviews so if you can spare the time please leave me one so I know what you are all thinking of the chapters and the story as a whole.**_

 _ **We've come to a chapter I dreaded writing but I think it actually worked out quite well! Fiona and James are about to come to blows and set the wheels in motion for an action filled chapter or two coming up!**_

* * *

 _John Clare - First Love_

I ne'er was struck before that hour  
With love so sudden and so sweet,  
Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower  
And stole my heart away complete.  
My face turned pale as deadly pale.  
My legs refused to walk away,  
And when she looked, what could I ail?  
My life and all seemed turned to clay.

And then my blood rushed to my face  
And took my eyesight quite away,  
The trees and bushes round the place  
Seemed midnight at noonday.  
I could not see a single thing,  
Words from my eyes did start -  
They spoke as chords do from the string,  
And blood burnt round my heart.

Are flowers the winter's choice?  
Is love's bed always snow?  
She seemed to hear my silent voice,  
Not love's appeals to know.  
I never saw so sweet a face  
As that I stood before.  
My heart has left its dwelling-place  
And can return no more.

* * *

 ** _Chapter Fifty Six - Midnight at Noonday_**

 _"So this is the path you have chosen?"_

I sucked in a deep breath as his disgruntled tone reached my ears. I had expected him to be angry of course but I suppose I hadn't realised how much it would pain me to hear him speak to me so. For a long moment there was silence between us as the wind picked up and lifted the careful ringlets of my hair. The warm breeze wrapped around the exposed skin of my neck and decolletage and only added to my flustered and desperate appearance. I realised he was going to say no more until I had turned to face him. I did so slowly, my heart beating so erratically that for a second or two I thought it might burst out of my chest. I felt tears pricking my eyes as I forced myself to keep my chin up. If he saw the slightest doubt or vulnerability in my stature he might suspect all was not what it seemed. I sucked in a second breath as my eyes finally met his. His were alight with so much anger that I'd never seen them brighter. His expression was devoid of any emotion whatsoever though. I guessed he was likely waiting to hear what I had to say for myself.

"Commodore..." I nodded primly as I tried to piece together an explanation in my head before I spoke. "I'm so glad I got the chance to speak to you before I left. I wanted to assure you that everything's grand. This..." I gestured idly with my hands as I lost my train of thought entirely. I took a desperate gulp of air as one of my hands moved to my own waist, somehow expecting to feel my stays tightening all by themselves because I could not manage to take a full breath.

"This ... alignment with your uncle?" James suggested in clipped tones as he threw a look over my shoulder. He says that he was trying to spot my uncle down on the forecourt in the early morning throng of marines making their way to their stations for the day. James might not have been able to spot my uncle but I could certainly feel the man's eyes watching me from afar, his grey gaze fixed upon me to ensure I followed through. "I am curious as to his presence here. Did you know of it? It is rather a coincidence that such a man should appear in Port Royal when you have been here for some time. How was he to know he'd find you here?" There was a cold sort of animosity in James's tone that told me he was disgusted with my uncle's presence but he had managed to carefully control his anger.

I was glad of it. Although I knew in the end I had to leave him angry at me and hating me, I didn't want his emotions to throw me off course. Afterwards I could let myself cry for the pain I'd caused him. My mouth had gone so dry that it took a few seconds before I was able to speak again. I nodded to him as I tried to find my words. "This alignment with my uncle is not likely what you expected of me but I wish to assure you that all is well. I have made my own decision. It was my choice to seek him out. You see, he can offer me the chance to -"

"You knowingly sought out a man who has readily attacked you in the past in an attempt to grievously assault your own person; a man who had and still does have a duty of care where you are concerned?" His eyes flashed menacingly and for the first time in all the time I'd known him I wanted desperately to look away from him. I was finding it harder and harder to come to terms with his sudden resentment of me even though it was inevitable. "I do not think Miss O'Connell that there will be any conceivable, rational reason why you would do such a thing? Explain yourself! I want to know how you came to know he was here in Jamaica! I want to know what offers have been made to you! I never did consider you fool enough to fall foul of the charms of men and I still do not. What kind of offer has been made to you?"

The wind was still buffeting all around us, likely drowning our entire conversation out. I knew even then that I had a perfect chance to tell James everything. Even though there was anger within him I could also see a burning curiosity behind his eyes. I have since learned that he did indeed suspect something ever so close to the real truth but that he was hesitant to voice his suspicions. He did not know for sure what it was that may have enticed me to abandon his protection for that of my uncle's which made him wary. I think he was worried that there were things about my life that I had not divulged, things that might mean I was in a lot more trouble than he knew of. He also didn't want to upset me because although he'd lost sight of my uncle, he knew he would still be watching. More than anything though he wanted to gauge my presentation and answers. He says he was prepared to step in to help me if he thought that I'd been tricked or hoodwinked in some way.

I shook my head slowly as I tried for candidness and it was then that I felt the tears begin to cascade down my face. I'd been holding them in for so long but facing him and knowing I'd have to fabricate a whole other persona to convince him to forget all about me was shattering my heart into pieces. The pain I felt then was like nothing I'd ever felt before, creeping into my chest and stealing all of the warmth from me. "I don't quite know where to start commodore. Suffice it to say that I... I have never wanted to be a burden. That's what I've been for many months now and I couldn't take it any more. I've been so overwhelmed with everyone's kindness but I never did deserve it. My uncle has made me see that now. Governor Swann and the Turners have been ever so kind in looking after me but we both know that I could not have stayed with them indefinitely. We are not the same kind of people. I had the same kind of upbringing as most of their servants so I'm sure you can imagine why I was feeling uncomfortable staying in such a grand room-"

"Elizabeth and her father never once made you feel like you were a burden or that you had overstayed your welcome," James interrupted, a frown now marring his features. "Even I can attest to that and I hardly saw any of your interactions with them. Such remarks are a poor way to repay the kindness they have shown you. I considered you rather comfortable and at peace in the governor's residence! Those good hearted people took you in only on my recommendation! I brought you into their home as a friend of mine and this is how you repay those actions? By eloping with the very man you were seeming to be on the run from not a few days ago! Instead of bringing any such plans to those who have attempted to aid you, you took it upon yourself to take flight into the moonlight without so much as a goodbye or an explanation! Do you not realise Miss O'Connell that governor Swann's position of authority in Port Royal is precarious enough without his shielding of you? You were sailing with pirates when I found you. I vouched for you and aimed to give you some semblance of a life-"

"Did I ever ask you to do that commodore? You wanted me to help you find a lump of treasure! Don't try to pretend you were thinking of me! I can't believe I'm having to remind you of that!" I didn't realise I'd stepped towards him until he too stepped closer. We were almost nose to nose, his eyes almost burning holes in mine they were so alive. His warm breath ghosted over my face as I could tell he was trying to keep his temper in check. It was ironic really that such conversation seemed to have reversed the affects of his redemption. He was once more the frustrated and bitter commodore I had despised for those first few days aboard _The Surgence_. I've told you before that I believe grief takes many forms. Perhaps my apparent betrayal was as much a blow to him as a death might be. It was a different kind of grief but grief all the same. Despite our close proximity I was beginning to see a clear path to wedge as much theoretical distance between us as possible. When he was no longer the man I'd come to care for I could readily see the chinks in his armour. Of course I did not know how he truly felt in those moments. If I'd known it was really acute misery of the greatest kind in his eyes then I would not have been able to go through with my plan. No, I thought it was disgust that was staring back at me in those eyes that resembled so much the home I thought I needed.

"You are little better than a pirate! What else would you expect of me, Miss O'Connell?"

The truth stung. I didn't voice that I actually expected a great deal more from him. He had no tolerance for pirates. Everyone knew that. He didn't save my life because he wanted to make use of my pirate knowledge. No, he'd saved me because he felt he owed Mick some kind of debt. He saw in me a frightened and flailing wraith and understood perhaps subconsciously that my path in life had been no choice of my own. He understood that loosing Mick had thrown my mind into turmoil. It was eerily similar to the very turmoil he faced alone. He thought he was doing the right thing in offering me some kind of purpose even if it was aboard a navy ship. He did the decent thing. That was what I had come to expect of him.

I shrugged nonchalantly and stepped back from him again. "I suppose you're right in a way. You got your treasure and I got to live to tell another tale. It was quite the bargain. I'm a pirate, a marauder, a thief, a loudmouth, a papist, an antagonist and now a murderer too! Why on earth would you want your fine friends associating with me? I always did wonder why you were kind. You bestowed it upon such a strange subject. I know now that it was all lies. Were you laughing at me behind my back? Were you enjoying how small I was made to feel in that grand house on the hill with your fine friends? Did you and your officers have such a laugh at my expense as you forced me into the darkest depths of depression stuck aboard your ship?" James stepped back this time as if wounded fiercely by my words, his face suddenly ashen and disappointment flooding his features. "Were you flattered that I looked up to you? Did it inflate your ego? Is that what it was all about? Were you hoping I'd slip into your cabin bed one night whilst the wind and the rain raged outside? Of course you did! I was just a play thing to you! Well I'll have you know that I used you too! I was bound for the gallows if you hadn't stepped in. Now look at me, due to be married to one of the richest men in England."

James's words died on his lips. He'd been about to interrupt me but at the mention of marriage his whole face changed. He appeared as if he was about to be violently ill. He turned away from me sharply, gazing out at the sea before us as the violent wind eased off suddenly. There was anguish there behind the one eye I could see before he appeared to banish it instantly. He was pale then, his expression unreadable even though his hands were balled into fists at his sides. I was torn. I had the overwhelming desire to reach out to him, to take one of those hardened fists in my own hand to try and reassure him that none of it were really true, that in fact I cared for him more than I'd cared for anyone in my life. On the other hand, I knew my uncle would be watching. He'd take such an action as a sign of my defiance. I'd be condemning James and everyone else in Port Royal. In the back of my mind I'd realised just how much was at stake. It wasn't just my friends lives that were at risk if I didn't perform as directed. I could well imagine the kind of life that the people of Port Royal might be forced to endure under the governing of a man like Cutler Beckett. All of that weighed heavily upon my shoulders.

I knew then what the vision had meant, that vision I'd seen in my dreams on the first night of my stay in Port Royal. Perseus had come to the rescue of Andromeda without a thought to his own safety. The ending of the vision replayed over and over again in my mind then. Andromeda's stumble, Perseus's concerned glance in her direction and the sudden sense of fear and death that infiltrated Andromeda's mind. She'd known what was about to happen seconds before it did and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She watched her uncle launch that sword at Perseus, heard it singing as it flew through the air...towards the man she loved. Was that what Andromeda was trying to tell me, that I had the chance to do what she had not and save the man I loved? It was as if someone had thrown a tepid bucket of water down my spine. I was awake then, instantly aware of the true meaning of everything I'd ever learned about Perseus and Andromeda. Had it all really been leading up to that point, where I chose my uncle over James? Even now I can't honestly say that I'd have done anything differently if I'd known sooner. Granted, the last thing I should have done was accompany him to Port Royal to be introduced to his friends if I'd known the truth. I'd have knowingly been endangering them, but hadn't I thought that anyway? I'd still believed I would face the consequences for Townshend's death and that I'd be dragging them all down with me.

An almost snarl from James broke through my thoughts of despair. "Was everything that you ever said a lie?"

He couldn't bring himself to look at me. He was still staring determinedly out towards the horizon but I knew he was not merely taking in the view. Rage radiated off him in waves and I took a decided step backwards even though I knew that he was not a violent man. The truth was that I didn't want him to turn back towards me. I didn't want to know how much he hated me before I left him. "Only you can decide that," I replied hesitantly. "Did you have any cause to doubt me before now? Did you have any cause to mistrust me? You once said that I never said anything unless I meant it. I believe I've been honest with you and you with me but perhaps we have a warped perception of one another but I doubt you'll believe any of that now. You appear to have made your mind up about me only in these last few moments."

"What about the sword?" James snapped abruptly. "I suppose that was the first secret that slipped from your lips and into your uncle's ear? Pray tell when I am to receive him so that he may collect his trophy?"

His animosity towards me appeared relentless. Although it was breaking my heart I knew that it was all worthwhile as that animosity would preserve James's life. "I haven't breathed a word about any of that. I told you before that you shouldn't hand the sword over to my uncle and I stand by that reasoning. Such a weapon would be gravely dangerous in the hands of a man like my uncle. The sword belongs to you, I think. You freed it from that cave. I dare say it will only answer to your call now."

James glanced at me out of the corner of his eye for a split second. "After all of your other betrayals I do not see why on earth you should feel the need to keep such a thing from your uncle. Would such a gift not bestow upon you his good graces?" James's tone was dripping in sarcasm. "Would it not make you the perfect wife?"

I shook my head mildly. "I've told you, it wouldn't be wise. No one should ever let my uncle get their hands on their treasure. Everything he touches turns to dust after all."

At last he turned his head, his anger still there but curiosity broke through the barrier. "Would you turn to dust Miss O'Connell?"

His sudden change in demeanour rankled with me slightly. I didn't want him to ask any more questions about me for fear he'd trip me up in one of them. The only way to throw him off track I could think of in that moment was to talk about myself a little more. That way I imagined his curiosity would be killed because he was so determined to detest me. "Surely you know well enough that I can handle whatever is thrown at me; and there are worse fates than dust commodore."

"That is just it, I find I no longer feel I know you at all." He turned his gaze back upon the ocean and I felt he might have marked the end of our conversation. I took a few slow steps towards the staircase, unsure if James had yet more to say but it appeared he did. Without turning to observe me he said, "You do not have the appearance of dust at any rate. Indeed I almost would not recognise you in all of your _finery_." The last he uttered disdainfully, as if he did not approve of my appearance. "I cannot help but wonder how well you managed to hide your desire to be more than what you were. I took you for a woman of simple tastes, but an intelligent one at that. Clearly, the life of a society pariah appealed more to you than it was ever thought possible. I do hope that the London ton lives up to the high aspersions you will have cast but I fear it will fall short. We are all a product of our upbringing Miss O'Connell, you more than most. You can take the Irish country girl out of Ireland, and you can sail her across the seven seas for forever and a day but you cannot take Ireland from her. There are many that will shun you, poke fun at you and some will be downright rude and abrasive. You should be on your guard. You will not be welcomed, no matter who you marry. In the eyes of the ton you will have stolen from their daughters a fine marriage match. An Irish country girl living the life of a near duchess? They will recoil in disgust."

Looking back upon this conversation I know that James was not speaking about his own opinion of me. Where I came from made no matter to him. He had taken me at face value. He was merely speaking of the poor reception that the Irish received in general when associating with the great and the good of English nobility. At the time he was spouting those words though I did let fury cloud my vision a little. I thought these were his new opinions of me because in his eyes I had betrayed him. I did not consider my uncle near enough to hear so I snorted in a rather ladylike manner and began my web of lies laced with an ever so painful truth. "Do you think I care what people will think of me? I'll be richer than Croesus where I'm going and I'm not talking about money. They can think what they like. I've been looking over my shoulder for a long time and I have not the energy for it any more. I want an honest and peaceful life. That is something that my uncle can give me. Once I fulfil my obligations as a dutiful wife he will lavish me with luxury estates in the country for my own private use. I'll not have to see London or him if I do not wish to. It will be the perfect idyllic future for someone like me."

"So you will go off to your new wondrous life and forget about us all then?" Was I imagining that I heard a little hurt in his tone?

"I don't think so...how could anyone forget you commodore?" It only took a second or two for me to realise what I'd said. _Elizabeth Turner had forgotten him._ Itappeared he'd had the same thought because all of the anger from his expression began to dissipate, replaced by a strange longing look and I thought I could see disappointment there too. I hurried on with my explanations, aware that my last statement was likely causing more pain than any other. "I had wanted so badly to speak with you before I left commodore because I wanted to part as friends. There are many things in my life I regret or wish I'd done differently but I can safely say I am glad I met you. You'll be thinking the reverse presently of course but I do hope you realise..."

I was stumbling over my words again as some strange notion overtook me and I had this overwhelming desire to tell him the truth. I tried to shake my head a little but the feeling did not budge. It was not in my head. I felt a dreadful pang in my chest and glanced down at my feet as I felt his eyes upon me again. When I looked up again I could not bring myself to look at him, and that was how my uncle caught my eye again. He was making his way towards us across the forecourt again, his displeasure written all over his face. I'd outstayed my welcome. I sighed heavily as I realised how little time I had left with the man I had come to love. "Well, I hope you know now that I have at least removed Beckett from my path. In fact, I shall outrank him once I am married. I can call him off. He will no longer bother any of you again. Of course, you'll outrank him yourself soon enough."

He threw me a curious glance as I feigned shock at my deliberate blunder. Despite relishing in getting the chance to tell him that he had finally achieved his lifelong goal I knew that my revelation was about to mark a definite end to the conversation. I felt the tears coming again and this time they fell unbidden as I tried to move past him, my speech suddenly as wobbly as my legs. "I ...I shouldn't...I shouldn't have told you that. Though I don't see the harm in you knowing now. They'll make you admiral. You'll get to live your dream. In no time at all you'll outrank anyone else on this island. Of course, you must act surprised...when they tell you. They said I was not to say anything on pain of death." My harsh chuckle sounded fake even to my own ears. I kept moving past him even though my vision was now so obscured by tears that I could not see the top of the steps. "You see commodore, everyone's getting what they want."

I lost my footing as I couldn't see the top step and stumbled. Of course I blamed my obscured vision in those moments but of course I'd had a sleepless and horrific night. I'd not eaten in some time and I was struggling in my overly tight stays to catch a breath. In truth I had all but given up entirely. I knew where I was bound after all. I had given James his freedom and there was noting else left for me but to take my own freedom in a different form. Perhaps there was a part of me that wanted to tumble down those stone steps, cracking my skull open upon one of them as I went. In my mind it would have made things so much easier. Of course now I realise how wrong those kind of thoughts were. What can I tell you though? I was in a very low place.

An arm reached out, a strong hand grabbing my waist before I could tumble. James pulled me back into a standing position swiftly, but he did not immediately release his grip. "What about you Miss Lefroy; are you getting what you want?"

My heart was almost in my throat then as his eyes bore into mine. They were alive with anger but I wondered if he was trying to read my own emotions in that moment. I immediately threw up the shutters in my mind. I was so used to keeping my guard up that it was something that came naturally and it appeared to throw James off but he still did not release me. I realised then that I was shaking uncontrollably and he more than likely thought I'd stumble again if he let me go. I improved my posture, throwing my head back and my shoulders up in a show of confidence that I did not actually have. I tried to shake off his grip as I realised my uncle was nearing the bottom of the steps. "You should release me. My uncle won't like this." I threw a pointed look down towards his grip of my waist that was as firm as his stare. He appeared unmoved by my speech but he did relinquish his hold of me.

"I no longer give credence to that which your uncle likes or dislikes." With that he turned away, and the ache in my chest began to spread, stealing my breath and my ability to think as his abrupt dismissal of me hit home. "I think we shall have little or no cause to meet again."

"You're right about that Commodore... we'll...we'll not meet again. That...I'm certain of."

I raced away from him down the steps and I have no idea how I managed to stay upon my feet. It was my uncle's turn to take me in his grip, but his was stronger than James's and I knew he would leave bruises. "I cannot say that he appears entirely full of hatred!" my uncle growled as he began to drag me across the forecourt. "I only hope what you said was enough to keep him at bay until we are married and away from here."

I was in such a state of distress that I did not realise that James and I had an audience for our whole conversation, and I don't just mean my uncle. Elizabeth and Will were standing together beneath an awning of Fort Charles, watching on as James and I removed one another from our lives together. For Will I think it must have been incredibly difficult to watch. he knew my secret; that is he knew I'd run to save James from harm. To see me with my uncle was indeed a shock for him and he was beginning to think that perhaps keeping my secret was no longer the best thing for me. He hesitated though. If he told Elizabeth the truth she would in turn tell James. He knew James's decency would dictate that he came after me. Then they would all be back in the line of fire. Then of course Will had the notion that I might have lied to him too. How was he to know I hadn't been planning to elope to my uncle's side all along. If that was truth then any efforts James might make to recovery me would be in vain.

"There's something ever so strange going on here," Elizabeth mused aloud beside him. Will turned to her to watch her straining her eyes against the early light to watch as my uncle and I left the fort. "Why on earth is Fiona just giving herself over into her uncle's hands? I cannot imagine what would entice her to do such a thing."

She turned back to Will and he tried to keep an indifferent expression but he knew deep down there was no fooling his wife. He sighed heavily. "Come with me Elizabeth. I'll tell you all but not here." He cast a warning gaze towards where James was now stood, fury evident on his features. The married couple watched James for a few seconds before he turned sharply and taking the stairs two at a time he raced to meet Gillette and appeared to be giving orders.

What I did not know for a long time afterwards was that James's feelings had undergone such a change within those few moments we spent together up on the lookout. It would be some time before he would confide to me that for him that day brought about his acknowledgement of his own feelings. It seems the thought that I might have betrayed him forced his eyes open to that which had lain dormant for many months. I already knew I was causing him a lot of pain for I had followed in Elizabeth's footsteps. Where Elizabeth had given little or no hope whatsoever though, I had rather come to rely upon James. What was more, he'd enjoyed and encouraged such a reliance. More than anything else he'd thought I was the foremost person he could trust with anything in all the world. In the matter of only a few moments I'd torn that trust apart and stamped all over it. I had not realised the depth of his feelings though. It was only later that he felt comfortable enough to tell me that I'd in fact torn not just his trust but his heart in two. He felt the first pangs of real and true heartbreak he says, even as he reached out to try and claw back his heart into his chest and found it long escaped. It had gone with me as I'd barrelled down those steps towards my uncle and as he watched forlornly as I was marched away, he knew not how to carry on.

Before, he had channelled his grief into determination and anger. Out upon the raging seas he'd nearly destroyed himself in pursuit of some unearthly thing that I'm not even sure he understands to this day. A part of him resolved to do the same again even though he says this time it felt very different. Elizabeth had stayed true to herself. She'd never intimated to James that they would be anything more than simply friends. Whilst he had struggled to come to terms with the knowledge that Elizabeth had found true love and happiness with someone else, James had managed to resolve the despair he felt because he could see that Elizabeth was truly happy. That was all that he had ever wanted for her and he was beginning to believe he could never have made her so. I on the other hand had spent months mooning after him at sea and had given him the impression that he could trust me with anything in the world. He felt that my betrayal was all the more malicious because I couldn't possibly have meant a word I ever said to him if I'd gone off with my uncle. He believed he'd been hoodwinked by me and that I was everything I'd ever set out not to be. He thought I was some lying master manipulator which made it all the easier to hate me.

The thing is, I think there's a truth in the saying that there's a fine line between love and hate. It took all of James's despair and disgust of me in those moments for him to realise that to hate me caused an incontrovertible amount of pain. After coming to esteem me so highly in such a short space of time he was finding it hard to coach his feelings in the opposite direction. He was determined to do it though. He was determined to hate me; and yet I'd taken his heart with me. He'd reached out to claw it back inside his chest as I'd walked away with my uncle but he'd been too late. For the second time in his life he'd let a woman in where no one had been before only to have his heart broken. At least with Elizabeth he had found some semblance of peace. He was glad to see her happy and finally able to understand that Will was her true match who could give her the life she needed and deserved. Those carefully crafted feelings he'd harboured for her had long taken flight and he could meet with her once more as only a friend. It was watching the love she shared with Will that he found hard to stomach. Thus he resolved he would remove himself from the worlds of Elizabeth Swann and Fiona O'Connell. He could not bear to trudge through life alone whilst the Turners began their wonderful wedded life together and he certainly did not want to meet with me again.

I'd tricked and beguiled him, he thought. There was more to it than that though and he knew it. He knew somewhere deep down inside that I'd still been a version of my true self with him. That was why he felt such anguish. A part of him still felt he knew me, still wanted for my company. My bravery, common sense and skill were all things he greatly admired about me and he could not fathom how on earth I could have faked it all. None of it matched up to the version he'd met of me that day on the battlements of Fort Charles. I think perhaps he was struck by my difference in appearance. A corseted waist and slender figure created by the finest dress I'd ever seen presented the girl who had consented to marry my uncle all of those years ago. That woman was a schemer who took the bad of my uncle's repulsive behaviour with the good of the riches and propriety that such a marriage would inevitably bestow. He thought that was me now, a chancer and a con artist. My carefully coiffed and styled hair symbolised a discarding on my part of my Irish heritage and the wild side of me that believed in magic and possibilities. He had never considered me a traitor and yet there I was betraying all that I held dear about my home country for a few coins. Everything he'd believed about me appeared false and he was so thrown by all of this that he described it almost as the light disappearing, day becoming night in the mere blink of an eye. Although he was entirely wrong in his hatred of me, it was what I'd wanted. At least that way I was assured of his safety. He could go on hating me for all eternity and believing I'd turned his world upside down if it kept him healthy and hearty.

I suppose you will say that we yet again had our chance to be truthful with one another. Why didn't he just tell me that he loved me that day and have done with it? I ask you, is James the kind of man to do such a thing? His one and only declaration of love had ended in a near drowning and with Jack Sparrow's rescue of Elizabeth, the wheels were in motion for the assumed love of his life to take a different path entirely. He was well and truly sick of notions of love and sentiment by that point. I know you'll all be wondering why on earth I didn't just blurt out all of the truth to him then and there. He'd have protected me from my uncle is what you all know to be true. The thing is, I didn't doubt that part. I worried about what might befall James when he did step in to shield me. I thought the chances were high that I'd be causing his death. In my slightly twisted mind I wanted to ensure that it was me dying and not the man I loved. If I'd known he reciprocated such feelings, I'd have been doubly sure that I couldn't tell him the truth if I'm honest. Can you imagine what might have happened if we'd confessed our love in those moments and my uncle had stepped in. James would likely have gone to unimaginable lengths to protect me and I couldn't envision ever allowing it. well, I say unimaginable...that's not entirely true. What would come to pass in the coming days would serve as proof of our love for one another even if we weren't prepared to admit it. We've come to the part of the tale I think you'll all rather begin to rejoice in for James and I were always destined to meet again no matter what befell us. Whether we managed to find common ground though, you'll have to read on to find out...

* * *

 _ **Eeeekk, things are going to start moving on now in the next few chapters and Fiona and James will have to learn to face the truth. Jack Sparrow and the pearl crew will also be back and we will of course see what happens when Fiona and James are reunited once more...**_


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